n 


By  F.  W.  BAIN 

Translated  from  the  Ori^nal  Manuscripts 

A  Digit  of  the  Moon 

And  Other  Love  Stories  from  the  Hindu 

A   Draught    of    the    Blue 

together  with 

An  Essence  of  the  Dusk 

An  Incarnation  of  the  Snow 

A  Mine  of  Faults 

The  Ashes  of  a  God 

Bubbles  of  the  Foam 


BUBBLES    OF    THE 
FOAM 

TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  ORIGINAL  MANUSCRIPT 

BY 

F.  W.  BAIN 


What !  Mortal  taste  Immortal  ?  Earth  kiss  Heaven  ? 
Confusion  elemental  I  ah!  beware  I 

SOMADEWA 


WITH  A  FRONTISPIECE 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 

NEW    YORK    AND   LONDON 

Zhc   f{nicftetbocF:et    pceee 

1912 


Copyright,  1912 

BY 

F.  W.  BAIN 


Tt^be  ftnfcKetbocfter  {press*  lUw  ]2ork 


L^  A-.  ,^/J 


2)eDicateD 


LADY  GLENCONNER 


256975 


So  Life's  sad  Sunset  prizes 
What  Life's  gay  Dawn  despises. 
And  always  Winter  wise  is 

When  Summer  is  no  more  : 
While  Love  than  lightning  fleeter 
Turns  all  he  touches  sweeter, 
To  leave  it  incompleter 

Behind  him,  than  before. 

Amara 

Years,  looking  forward,  all  too  slow, 

Yet  looking  hack,  too  fast, 
What  is  your  joy,  what  is  your  woe. 
But  scented  ash  that  used  to  glow, 
A  sandalwood  of  long  ago, 

A  camphor  of  the  past  ? 

SULOCHANA 


CONTENTS 

I. — A  Spoiled  Child  . 
11. — The  Thirst  of  an  Antelope 
i.  a  dappled  dawn  . 

II.    A   GLAMOUR   OF   NOON        . 
III.    THE  DESERT  AND   THE   NIGHT 


PAGB 
I 

33 

37 

79 

113 


vn 


INTRODUCTION 

Four  things  are  never  far  from  you,  in  old 
Hindoo  literature:  underfoot,  all  around  you, 
or  away  on  the  horizon,  there  they  always  are: 
the  Forest,  the  Desert,  the  River,  and  the 
Hills. 

It  is  never  very  easy,  to  understand  the  Past 
that  really  is  a  past :  and  the  age  of  Forests,  like 
that  of  chivalry,  is  gone.  But  in  the  case  of 
ancient  India,  the  chief  obstacle  to  under- 
standing arises  from  our  bad  habit  of  always 
looking  at  the  map  with  the  North  side  up. 
Why  this  inveterate  apotheosis  of  the  North? 
Would  you  understand  the  old  Hindoos,  you 
must  turn  the  map  of  India  very  nearly  up- 
side down,  so  as  to  get  Peshawur  at  the  bot- 
tom, and  the  Andaman  Islands  exactly  at  the 
top.  And  then,  history  lies  all  before  you, 
right  side  up,  and  you  get  your  intellectual 


X  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

bearings,  and  take  in  the  eariy  situation,  at  a 
glance.  Entering,  like  those  old  nomads, 
through  the  Khaibar,  you  find  yourself  sud- 
denly in  the  Land  of  Streams;  and  as  you 
drift  along,  you  go,  simply  because  you  must, 
straight  on,  down  the  River  "ganging  on** 
(Gangd)  towards  the  rising  sun,  ''ahead,** 
(which  is  the  Sanskrit  term  for  East,)  all 
under  the  colossal  wall  of  Hills,  the  home  of 
Snow,  where  the  gods  live,  on  your  left, 
{uttara,  the  North,  the  heights;)  while  on 
the  South  (the  right  hand,  dakshina,  the 
Deccan)  you  are  debarred,  not  by  Highlands, 
but  by  two  not  less  peremptory  rebutters: 
first,  by  the  Desert,  Marusthali,  the  home  of 
death;  and  then  again,  a  little  farther  on  by 
the  Forest  of  the  South:  the  vast,  mysterious, 
impenetrable  Wood,  of  which  the  Ramayana 
preserves  for  us  the  pioneering  record  and 
original  idea,  with  its  spell  of  the  Unknown 
and  the  Adventure  (like  the  Westward  Ho! 
of  a  later  age)  with  its  Ogres  and  its  Sprites, 
its  sandal  trees  and  lonely  lotus-tarns,  its 
armies  of  ugly  little  ape-like  men,  and  its  legen- 


Introduction  xi 

dary  Lanka  (Ceylon)  lost  in  a  kind  of  halo  of 
shell-born  pearls,  and  gems,  and  their  Ten- 
headed  Devil  King,  Rawana,  away,  away,  at 
the  very  end  of  all:  so  distant,  as  to  be  little 
more  than  mythical,  little  better  than  a 
dream.  No  !  Those  who  wish  to  see  things 
with  the  eyes  of  old  Hindoos  must  not  begin, 
as  we  did,  and  do  still,  with  Ceylon,  and  the 
adjacent  coasts  of  Coromandel  and  Malabar. 
That  is  the  wrong,  the  other  end :  it  is  like 
starting  English  history  from  ''the  peak  in 
Darien. " 

But  our  particular  concern,  in  these  pages, 
is  with  the  Desert.  The  conventional  notion 
of  a  desert,  as  a  colourless  and  empty  flat  of 
sand,  is  curiously  unlike  the  thing  itself, 
which  is  a  constantly  changing,  kaleidoscopic 
sea  of  colour,  made  up  of  rainbow  stripes, 
black,  golden,  red,  dazzling  white,  and  blue, 
with  every  kind  of  lights  and  shadows,  strange 
hazes,  transparencies,  and  gleams.  True,  the 
ground  you  actually  tread  upon  is  bare,  but  it 
is  clothed  with  raiment  woven  by  that  magic 
artist.  Distance,  out  of  cloud  and  heat  and 


xii  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

air  and  sky.  And  so,  when  these  old  Hindoo 
people  came  to  make  a  closer  acquaintance 
with  the  Desert,  so  dangerous  to  enter,  so 
difficult,  as  Mahmood  subsequently  found, 
to  cross,  they  discovered  that,  over  and  above 
the  plain  prosaic  danger,  this  Waste  of  Sand 
laid,  like  a  very  demon,  goblin  snares  for  the 
unwary  traveller's  destruction,  in  the  form  of 
its  Mirage.  Ignorant  of ' 'optical  phenomena, ' * 
they  gazed  at  this  strange  illusion,  these 
phantom  trees  and  water,  these  mocking 
semblances  of  cities  that  vanished  as  you 
reached  them,  with  astonishment,  and  even 
awe.  It  struck  their  imagination,  and  they 
gave  to  it  a  name  scarcely  less  poetical  than 
the  thing:  calling  it  '' deer -water,''  or  the 
''thirst  of  the  antelope,'"^  Nor  was  this  all. 
For  the  apparition  was  a  kind  of  symbol, 
made  as  it  were  expressly  for  their  own 
phenomenology:  it  contained  a  moral  mean- 
ing that  harmonised  precisely  with  all  their 

^  I  am  told,  by  a  pundit  in  these  matters,  that  the  term  is 
found  at  least  as  early  as  PatanjaH  (the  Mahdbhdshya) ;  that  is 
probably,  the  latter  half  of  the  second  century  B.C.,  and  hence 
it  must  have  originated  long  before. 


Introduction  xiii 

philosophical  ideas.  What  could  be  a  better 
illustration  of  that  Maya,  that  metaphysi- 
cal Delusion,  in  which  all  souls  are  wrapped, 
which  leads  them  to  impute  Reality  to  the 
Phantasms,  the  unsubstantial  objects  of  the 
senses,  and  lures  them  on  to  moral  ruin  as 
they  wander  in  the  waste?  And  accordingly, 
we  find  the  poets  constantly  recurring  to 
this  thirst  of  the  gazelle,  as  an  emblem  of  the 
treacherous  and  bewildering  fascination  of 
the  fleeting  shadows  of  this  lower  life  (ihaloka) ; 
the  beauty  that  is  hollow,  the  Bubble  of  the 
World.  And  thus.  Disappointment  is  of  the 
essence  of  Existence:  disappointment,  which 
can  come  about,  only  when  hopes  and  expec- 
tations have  been  founded  on  a  want  of 
understanding  (awiweka);  a  blindness,  born 
of  Desire,  that  sets  and  keeps  its  unhappy 
victims  hunting,  in  vain,  for  what  is  not  to 
be  found. 

Especially,  essentially,  in  Love :  Love,  which 
has  its  origin  in  Dream,  its  acme  in  Ecstasy, 
and  its  catastrophe  in  Disillusion :  Love,  which 
is  life's  core  and  kernel  and  epitome,  the  focus 


XIV  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

and  quintessence  of  existence.  A  life  that  is 
without  it  has  somehow  missed  its  mark:  it 
is  meaningless  and  plotless,  *'a  string  of  casual 
episodes,  like  a  bad  tragedy."  For  what, 
after  all,  is  Love?  Who  has  given  an  account 
of  it?  Plato's  fable,  which  makes  Love  the 
child  of  Satiety  and  Want,  or  Poverty  and 
Plenty,  is  a  pretty  piece  of  fancy:  it  is  clever: 
but  like  mathematics,  an  explanation  of  the 
brain  rather  than  the  heart.  Something  is 
missing.  For  Plato,  almost  always  delicate 
and  subtle,  is  never  tender:  the  reason  is, 
that  he  was  atrophied  on  the  feminine  side; 
he  does  not  consequently  understand  sex, 
being  himself  only  half  a  man — that  is,  only 
man  and  nothing  more.  But  all  the  really 
great  imaginative  men  are  bi-sexual:  they 
have  a  large  ingredient  of  woman  in  their 
composition,  which  gives  to  their  divination 
an  extra  touch  of  something  that  others  can- 
not reach.  And  so,  with  equal  poetry,  yet 
with  a  pathos  infinitely  deeper,  our  Milton 
makes  Love  the  child  of  Loneliness:'  a  par- 

^  In  his  Doctrine  and  Discipline  oj  Divorce, 


Introduction  xv 

entage  evinced  by  the  terrible  melancholy 
of  Love  when  he  cannot  find  his  proper 
object,  and  the  blank  desolation  and  despair 
of  the  frightful  void  and  blackness  left  behind, 
when  he  has  lost  it.  But  now,  it  is  just  this 
intolerable  loneliness  which  makes  him  ideal- 
ise the  commonplace,  and  see  all  things  in 
the  light  of  his  own  yearning,  creating  for 
himself  visions  of  unimaginable  happiness, 
which  presently  vanish,  to  resolve  his  Eden 
into  nothing,  and  leave  him,  with  no  compan- 
ion but  the  horror  of  his  own  intensified 
isolation,  in  the  sand.  A  situation,  which 
hardly  any  lover  that  really  is  a  lover  can 
endure,  without  going  mad.  They  are  very 
shallow  theologians,  who  by  way  of  pandering 
to  sentimental  prejudices  make  the  essence 
of  the  Deity  to  consist  in  Love.  Poor  Deity! 
his  life  would  be  a  Hell,  past  all  human 
imagination:  an  everlasting  Loneliness,  with 
no  prospect  of  release.  For  it  is  pre- 
cisely to  escape  from  this  hell  that  so 
many  forlorn  lovers  take  refuge  in  the 
tomb :  a  resource  not  available  to  those  who 


xvi  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

cannot  die.     Death  is   not   always   terrible; 
sometimes  he  is  kind. 

Such  then  is  the  theme  of  Bubbles  of  the 
Foam:  a  little  love-story,  whose  title,  like  that 
of  all  her  elder  sisters,  has  in  the  original  a 
double  application,  by  reason  of  the  ambiguity 
of  the  last  word,  to  Love,  and  to  the  Moon. 
We  might  also  render  it,  A  Heavenly  Bubble , 
or  Love  is  a  Bubble,  or  Nothing  but  a  Bubble, 
or  A  Bubble  of  the  World,"-  thinking  either  of 
Love  or  the  Moon.  For  the  Moon,  like  the 
goddess  of  Love,  rose  originally  from  the  sea, 
and  they  retain  traces  of  their  origin,  both  in 
their  essence  and  their  appearance.  For  what 
is  more  like  a  great  Foam-Bubble  than  the 
Moon?  and  what  is  more  like  the  delusion  of 
love  than  a  bubble  of  the  foam,  so  beautiful 
in  its  play  of  colour,  while  it  endures;  so 
evanescent,  so  hollow,  leaving  behind  it 
when  it  bursts  and  disappears  nothing  but  a 

^I  was  sorely  tempted  to  give  it  the  title  of  Mere  Foam: 
which,  if  the  reader  would  kindly  understand  mere  in  its 
German,  its  Russian,  its  Latin,  and  its  ordinary  English  sense, 
would  be  an  exact  translation.  But  it  has  an  unfortunate 
suggestion  {meerschaum)  which  made  it  impossible. 


Introduction  xvii 

memory,  and  a  bitter  taste  of  brine?  And  as 
love  is  but  a  bubble,  so  are  all  its  victims 
merely  bubbles  of  a  bubble:  for  this  also  is 
mirage. 

Mirage!  mirage!  That  is  the  keynote  of 
the  old  melancholy  Indian  music;  the  bass, 
whose  undertone  accompanies,  with  a  kind  of 
monotonous  solemnity,  all  the  treble  varia- 
tions in  the  minor  key.  The  worid  is  unreal, 
a  delusion  and  a  snare;  sense  is  deception, 
happiness  a  dream ;  nothing  has  true  being,  is 
absolute,  but  virtue,  the  sole  reality;  that 
which  most  emphatically  is,^  attainable  only 
through  knowledge,  the  great  illuminator,  the 
awakener  to  the  perception  of  the  truth.  We 
move,  like  marionettes,  pulled  by  the  strings 
of  our  forgotten  antenatal  deeds,  in  a  magic 
cage,  or  Net,  of  false  and  hypocritical  momen- 
tary seemings;  and  bitter  disappointment  is 
the  inevitable  doom  of  every  soul,  that  with 
passion  for  its  guide  in  the  gloom,  thinks  to 


^Sat.  The  thesis  of  Socrates,  that  virtue  is  knowledge: 
probably  borrowed,  by  steps  that  we  cannot  trace,  through 
Pythagoras  or  "Orpheus"  from  the  East. 


xviii  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

find  in  the  shadows  that  surround  it  any 
substance,  any  soHd  satisfaction;  any  per- 
manent in  the  mutable ;  any  rest  in  the  cease- 
less revolution;  any  peace  which  the  world 
cannot  give.  Who  would  have  peace,  must 
turn  his  back  upon  the  world;  it  lies  the 
Other  Way.  Three  are  the  Ways:  the  Way 
of  the  World,  the  Way  of  Woman,  the  Way  of 
Emancipation. 

Does  anyone  in  Europe  care  about  this  last, 
this  Way  of  Emancipation?  No;  it  is  Liberty 
that  preoccupies  the  European,  who  about  a 
century  ago  seemed,  like  the  old  Athenian, 
suddenly  to  catch  sight  of  Liberty  in  a  dream. ' 
And  yet,  who  knows?  For  Europe  also  is 
disappointed:  there  seems,  after  all,  to  be 
something  lacking  to  this  Liberty,  something 
wrong.  With  her  Utopias  ending  in  blind 
alleys,  or  issues  unforeseen;  with  sages  dis- 
covered to  be  less  sages  than  they  seemed; 
with  her  Science  turning  superstitious,  her 
Literature  wallowing  in  the  gutter,  and  her 
women  descending  from  the  pedestal  of  sex 

*  6vap  iKevdepias  opuvras.      Plutarch, 


Introduction  xix 

to  play  the  virago  in  the  contamination 
of  the  crowd;  with  so  many  other  things, 
not  here  to  be  considered,  to  raise  a  doubt 
whether  this  Liberty  is  taking  her  just 
where  she  wished  to  go,  what  wonder  if 
even  Europe  should  begin  to  meditate  on 
means  of  emancipation,  even  if  only  from 
vulgarity,  and  steal  a  furtive  glance  or  two 
towards  the  East,  to  see,  whether,  by  diligently 
raking  in  the  ashes  of  ancient  Oriental  creeds, 
she  might  not  discover  here  and  there  a  spark, 
at  which  to  rekindle  the  expiring  candle  of 
her  own.  For  there  seems  to  be  some  curi- 
ous indestructible  asbestos,  some  element  of 
perennial,  imperturbable  tranquillity  and 
calm,  away  in  India,  which  is  conspicuous 
only  by  its  absence,  in  the  worry  of  the  West. 
Where  does  it  come  from?  What  does  it 
consist  in?  Is  there  a  secret  which  India  has 
discovered,  which  Eiu-ope  cannot  guess?  Is 
there  anything  in  it,  after  all,  but  barbaric 
superstition,  destined  to  fade  away  and  dis- 
appear, in  the  sunrise  of  omniscience? 

I  cannot  tell:  but  well  I  recollect  a  fugitive 


XX  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

impression  left  on  me  by  an  early  morning  in 
Benares,  now  many  years  ago.  I  threaded 
its  extraordinary  streets,  narrower  than  the 
needle's  eye,  and  crowded  with  strange, 
lithe,  nearly  naked  human  beings,  with  black, 
straight,  long  wet  hair,' and  brown  shining 
skins,  jostled  at  every  step  by  holy  bulls 
or  cows,  roaming  at  their  own  sweet  will, 
with  large  placid,  lustrous  eyes,  in  an  atmo- 
sphere heavy  with  the  half -delicious,  half -re- 
pulsive odour  of  inntimerable  flowers,  mostly 
yellow,  that  lay  about  everywhere  in  heaps, 
fresh  and  rotten,  till  I  came  out  finally  upon 
the  river  bank.  A  light  steamy  mist,  con- 
verted by  the  low  sun's  horizontal  rays 
into  a  kind  of  reddish-golden  veil,  hung  in  the 
quiet  air,  lending  an  almost  magical  effect  to 
the  long  row  of  great  temples,  whose  steps 
run  down  into  the  river,  along  the  northern 
bank;  half  of  them  in  ruins,  and  looking  as 
if  they  must  presently  slide  away  into  the 
water  and  disappear.  And  as  I  floated  slowly 
down,  I  watched  with  curiosity,  half  wondering 
if  I  was  dreaming,  the  throng  of  devotees, 


Introduction  xxi 

sitting,  lying,  gliding  here  and  there,  like 
an  antique  procession  on  an  old  Greek  frieze 
or  vase;  some  muttering  and  praying,  others 
bathing,  others  again  standing  motionless 
as  statues  in  the  stream,  buried  in  a  sort  of 
samddhi  meditation:  every  outline  of  every 
attitude,  in  that  clear  Indian  air,  as  sharp 
as  if  cut  with  scissors  out  of  paper.  And 
lying  close  beside,  cheek  by  jowl  with  the 
bodies  still  alive,  the  ashes  of  dead  bodies 
just  burned  or  still  burning  on  the  Ghat. 
Life  and  Death  touching,  running  into  one 
another,  and  nobody  amazed:  all  as  it  should 
be,  and  a  matter  of  course! 

England  and  India,  bureaucracy,  democ- 
racy, sedition,  education,  politics  and  Dur- 
bars; the  world  with  all  its  tumult  and  its 
roaring  passes  clean  over  their  heads,  un- 
heeded, unobserved;  for  them  the  noise  and 
bustle  do  not  matter,  do  not  trouble ;  they  do 
not  hear,  they  do  not  listen,  they  do  not  even 
care.  It  is  curious,  this  peace,  this  indifference, 
this  calm;  it  does  not  seem  reality;  it  is  like 
a  thing  looked  at  in  a  picture,  like  a  dream. 


xxii  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

And,  somehow,  as  I  gazed  at  it,  mechanically 
there  came  into  my  mind,  as  it  were  of  its 
own  accord,  a  story  I  had  read,  in  some  old 
navigator*s  "yarn,''  of  the  albatross,  sleep- 
ing on  the  great  South  Sea,  in  the  fury  of  a 
storm,  with  its  head  beneath  its  wing. 

Ceylon,  1912. 


I 

A  SPOILED  CHILD 


I 

A  SPOILED  CHILD 

BENEDICTION 

A  bow  to  the  mystical  evening  dance  of  the 
Rider  on  the  Mouse y""  who  whirling  round  his 
elephant  trunk,  smeared  with  wet  vermilion^ 
suddenly  shoots  it  straight  up  into  the  purple 
sky,  and  stands  for  a  single  instant  still,  poised 
in  the  yellow  twilight,  as  if  to  make  a  coral 
handle  for  the  white  umbrella  of  the  laughing 
Moon, 


There  is,  in  the  western  quarter,  a  land 
of  lonely  desolation,  that  resembles  a  very- 
sea,  but  of  sand  instead  of  brine,  and  rightly 
named  Marusthali,  being  a  very  home  of 
death,  sending  back  to  the  midday  sun  rays 

'Ganesha. 

3 


4  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

hotter  than  his  own,  and  challenging  the  mid- 
night sky,  with  silent  ashy  laughter,  as 
though  to  say:  What  am  I  but  the  rival  and 
reflection  of  thyself,  with  bones  instead  of 
stars,  and  tracks  of  wasted  skeletons  instead 
of  a  Milky  Way.  And  there,  upon  a  day, 
it  came  about  that  Maheshwara  was  roam- 
ing with  Parwati  in  his  arms.  And  as  they 
floated  swiftly  on,  over  the  dusty  waste,  they 
watched  their  own  huge  shadows  sweeping 
like  forms  of  clouds  across  the  burning 
sand,  exactly  underneath,  for  it  was  noon; 
and  the  surface  of  the  desert  shook  and 
quivered  in  the  stillness,  as  if  the  wind,  asleep, 
had,  like  a  tired  traveller,  sought  refuge 
from  the  fury  of  the  sun  above  their  heads. 
And  all  at  once,  the  Daughter  of  the  Snow 
exclaimed:  See,  there  is  the  mirage!  Let  us 
descend,  and  sit  for  a  little  while  upon  the 
sand;  for  I  love  to  watch  this  wonder,  which 
resembles  in  its  far  faint  blue  the  colour  of  a 
dream.  And  accordingly,  to  do  her  pleasure, 
Maheshwara  sank  softly  to  the  earth,  settling 
on  it  like  a  cloud  gently  resting  on  a  hill. 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  5 

So  as  they  looked,  after  a  while,  that  slen- 
der goddess  said  again :  Surely  it  is  a  shame, 
and  well  may  the  poor  antelopes  be  mistaken 
and  deceived.  For  who  could  believe  yonder 
water  to  be  only  an  illusion?  And  when  the 
eyes  of  even  gods  are  bewildered  by  the  cheat, 
how  much  more  the  eyes  of  thirsty  and  un- 
reflecting little  deer! 

Then  the  Moony-crested  deity  said  slowly: 
O  Daughter  of  the  Snow,  thy  own  reflection 
on  this  beautiful  illusion  is  the  truth.  And 
yet,  well  were  it  for  the  world,  were  its  illusion 
limited  only  to  its  eyes,  not  extending,  as  it 
actually  does,  to  its  understanding  also.  For 
this  deceptive  picture  on  the  sand  is  far  inferior 
in  power  and  importance  to  the  bewildering 
delusion  of  this  world  below,  fluttering  about, 
whose  shifting,  dancing  light,  like  moths 
about  a  wind-blown  torch,  men  singe  their 
silly  souls,  and,  burning  off  their  wings,  drop 
helpless,  maimed  and  mutilated,  into  the 
black  gulf  of  birth  and  death,  and  lose 
emancipation;  till,  after  countless  ages,  their 
wings  begin  to  sprout  and  grow  again,  under 


6  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

the  influence  of  works.  Yet  they  who  after 
all  emerge,  and  soar  away,  unburdened  even 
by  an  atom  of  the  guilt  that  weighs  them 
down,  and  brings  them  back  into  the  vortex 
of  rebirth,  are  very  few.  And  yonder  bones, 
now  lying  in  the  sand,  could  they  but  rise  and 
speak,  would  be  a  proof  of  what  I  say. 

And  the  goddess  looked,  and  saw,  close 
by,  a  little  heap  of  bones,  that  lay  half -buried 
in  the  sand.  And  she  said  with  curiosity: 
Whose  are  the  bones,  and  how  are  they  a 
proof  of  thy  consideration? 

And  Maheshwara  replied :  These  are  bones, 
not  of  a  man,  but  of  a  camel,  that  perished 
in  the  desert  long  ago.  For  into  this  body 
of  a  camel  fell  the  soul  of  which  I  spoke,  in 
punishment  of  crimes  committed  in  the  birth 
before,  in  the  body  of  a  man;  who,  blinded 
by  passion,  slew  three  of  his  fellow  mortals; 
as,  if  thou  wilt,  I  will  tell  thee  while  we  sit, 
watching  the  illusion  of  the  senses,  that  so 
closely  represents  the  illusion  of  the  souls  of 
the  lovers  in  the  tale. 


II 


Know,  then,  that  once  upon  a  time,  long 
ago,  all  the  gods  had  assembled  in  the  hall 
of  Indra's  palace,  to  listen  to  a  singing 
competition  that  took  place  among  the  Gand- 
harwas.  And  all  sat  listening  attentively, 
till  at  length,  all  at  once  came  a  pause  in  the 
performance.  And  in  the  silence,  while  all 
the  heavenly  singers  rested,  it  so  fell  out, 
by  the  decree  of  destiny,  that  the  flowery- 
arrowed  god, '  striving  to  recollect  a  cadence 
that  had  pleased  him,  hiunmed  it  as  well  as 
he  could,  over  again,  aloud;  and  like  the 
unskilful  imitator  that  he  was,  played  havoc 
with  his  model,  sttimbling  at  the  quarter 
tones,  and  singing  flat.  And  out  of  deli- 
cacy and  politeness,  the  gods  all  turned 
away  their  faces,  hiding  their  smiles,  except 

'  J.e.f  the  god  of  love,  Kdmadewa. 
7 


8  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

Brahma, '  whose  face  never  moved.  But  Kam- 
adewa,  looking  up  suddenly,  caught  the  vestige 
of  a  smile,  hovering,  just  before  it  disappeared, 
on  the  corner  of  the  lips  of  Saraswati,  as  if  it 
were  unwilling  to  leave  a  resting-place  so  unut- 
terably sweet  as  that  lovely  lady's  mouth.  And 
instantly,  he  turned  red  and  pale  alternately, 
with  rage  that  followed  shame:  so  little  does 
he  who  delights  in  making  others  blush  like 
doing  it  himself.  And  suddenly  taking  fire, 
he  cried  aloud :  Ha !  dost  thou  turn  me  into 
ridicule,  O  thou  malapert  blue-stocking  ?"" 
Then  will  I  curse  thee  for  thy  pains.  Fall 
instantly  into  a  lower  birth,  and  suffer  an- 
guish in  the  form  of  a  mortal  woman,  for  thy 
presimiption  and  ill-mannered  mirth. 

And  instantly,  all  the  other  gods,  hearing 
him,  broke  out  into  a  very  storm  of  indig- 
nation.    And    buzzing    like    infuriated    bees 

^  It  would  have  been  useless  for  Brahmd  to  turn  away  his 
face,  since  he  has  four — one  on  every  side. 

^  Kupanditd,  the  exact  equivalent  of  our  word.  Saraswati 
is  the  Hindoo  Pallas  Athene;  with  this  distinction  in  her  favour, 
that  she  is  as  gentle  as  the  Greek  lady  is  the  reverse.  The  fiava 
virago  of  Ovid  becomes  in  India  a  lotus  white  and  pure  as  her 
own  celestial  smile. 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  9 

around  one  who  seeks  to  rob  them  of  their 
honey,  they  swarmed  about  that  god  of  love, 
exclaiming  all  together:  What!  shall  Heaven 
be  bereft,  even  for  a  very  little  while,  of 
the  very  crest-jewel  of  its  brow,  because  of 
thy  loss  of  self-control,  and  a  fault  on  her 
part  which  was  not  a  fault  at  all,  but  only 
the  appropriate  reproof  of  thy  ill-advised 
endeavour  to  play  the  musician  without 
possessing  the  necessary  skill?  And  there 
arose  a  tumult  in  the  hall;  and,  finally,  they 
made  me  arbitrator  to  settle  the  dispute, 
knowing  that  Ananga  was  afraid  of  me,  as 
well  might  he  be.'  And  so,  after  all  were 
silent,  I  spoke.  And  I  said,  very  slowly: 
O  bender  of  that  bow,  whose  string  is  a  row 
of  bees,  thou  art  surely  altogether  inexcus- 
able, first  for  thy  singing,  and  secondly  for 
thy  loss  of  temper,  and  finally  for  thy 
curse.  For  who  could  be  so  harsh  as  to 
strike  Saraswati,  even  with  a  shirisha  petal? 
But    now,    the    mischief    is    utterly    beyond 

^Because  Maheshwara  had  burned  him,  on  a  previous  occasion, 
with  fire  from  his  eye. 


10  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

repair,  and  once  spoken,  the  curse  cannot 
be  recalled.'  And  whether  she  will  or  no, 
she  must  now  go  to  earth,  and  leave  us 
for  a  time,  till  thy  curse  has  spent  its  force. 
And  yet,  for  all  that,  it  is  not  right  that 
the  doer  of  injustice  such  as  thine  should 
escape  scot-free.  Therefore  now  I  will  give 
thee  curse  for  curse,  and  thou  shalt  eat  the 
fruit  of  thy  own  tree.  Fall  then,  immediately 
into  the  body  of  a  man,  and  stiff er  that 
mortality  which  thou  hast  laid  upon  Saraswati. 
And  thy  fortune  shall  be  interwoven  with 
her  own,  so  that  thy  curse  shall  be  determined 
by  the  quality  and  period  of  hers. 

And  then,  as  he  listened  to  my  doom, 
Kamadewa  turned  paler  than  the  ashes  to 
which  I  had  reduced  him  long  ago,  finding 
himself  punished  for  his  insolence  by  me,  for 
the  second  time.  But  the  gods  all  exclaimed, 
with  approbation  and  delight:  Victory  to 
Maheshwara!  who  has  once  more  bitten  the 
biter,   and  condemned  him,   by    a    sentence 

^  In  these  and  similar  ideas,  the  Hindoos  resembled  the  ancient 
Romans:  the  letter  was  decisive  and  irremediable,  uti  lingua 
nuncupassit,  ita  jus  esto. 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  ii 

even  more  merciful  than  he  deserved.  For 
what  could  be  more  intolerable  than  even 
Heaven  without  Saraswati,  unless  it  be  the 
curse  that  is  about  to  produce  such  a  melan- 
choly condition  of  affairs?" 

And  then,  those  two  deities  disappeared 
suddenly  from  Heaven,  and  descended  to 
be  born  as  man  and  woman  on  the  earth.  ^ 

^  This  exordium,  which  has  points  of  resemblance  with  that 
of  the  insufferable  Edna's  Harsha-charita,  is  only  the  Hindoo 
method  of  declaring  that  the  two  characters  presently  to  be 
brought  upon  the  scene  are  mortal  incarnations  of  love  and 
charm,  as  we  call  a  man  an  Adonis,  or  a  woman  a  Venus. 


Ill 


Now  just  at  that  very  moment,  it  happened, 
that  there  were  Hving  in  the  desert  two 
Rajpoots  of  the  race  of  the  Moon;  and  the 
name  of  the  one  was  Bimba,  and  that  of 
the  other,  Jaya."  And  Saraswati  was  born 
as  the  daughter  of  the  wife  of  Bimba,  while 
Kamadewa  was  bom  as  the  son  of  the  wife 
of  Jaya.  Now  Bimba  was  a  king,  and  Jaya 
was  his  cousin  on  the  mother's  side.  And 
very  soon  afterwards,  Jaya  set  upon  his 
cousin,  laying  claim  to  the  throne,  and, 
driving  him  away,  took  his  kingdom,  and 
kept  it  for  himself.  And  he  caught  the 
wife  of  Bimba,  and  put  her  to  death,  as 
he  would  have  done  also  with  her  daughter 
and  her  husband.     But  Bimba  succeeded  in 

'  I.e.,  the  disc  of  the  moon,  and  victory.     Pronounce  Jaya  to 
rhyme  with  eye. 

12 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  13 

escaping  with  his  daughter,  and  ran  away 
and  hid  himself.  So  Jaya  remained  in  tri- 
umph, reigning  over  the  kingdom,  whose 
capital  stood  on  the  very  spot  on  which 
we  are  sitting  now.  For  the  kingdoms  of 
the  earth  come  and  go  upon  it,  like  the 
shadows  of  the  clouds ;  and  they  grow  up 
suddenly  like  grass,  and  perish  a  little  later, 
and  vanish  clean  away,  leaving  behind  them 
absolutely  nothing  but  mounds,  such  as  those 
now  lying  all  about  thee,  and  fragments  of 
recollections,  and  half-forgotten  names,  like 
the  dreams  of  the  night  which  morning  ob- 
literates and  drives  away,  vaguely  hanging  in 
its  memory,  like  wreaths  of  mist  ciurling  and 
twisting  on  the  black  still  surface  of  a  pool 
in  some  dark  valley  screened  from  the  early 
sun  by  one  of  thy  father's'  peaks. 

And  of  all  the  elements  that  made  up 
Jaya's  good  fortune,  there  was  not  one 
which  filled  him  with  such  pride  and  ex- 
ultation as  his  son.  And  he  looked  upon 
him  as  the  very  fruit  of  his  birth  in  visible 

*  I.e.,  the  Himdlaya. 


14  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

form,  little  dreaming,  that  could  he  but  have 
looked  into  the  future,  and  seen  what  was 
coming,  he  would  rather  have  deemed  himself 
more  fortunate  to  live  and  die  without  any 
son  at  all,  than  to  have  begotten  such  a  son 
as  he  actually  had.  For  sons  resemble  winds, 
which  sometimes  lift  their  families  like  clouds 
to  heaven,  and  sometimes  dash  them  to  the 
earth,  like  hail. 

For  having  waited  so  long  to  get  a  son  at 
all,  till  hope  was  all  but  gone,  the  joy  of  both 
his  parents,  when  he  actually  arrived,  was  so 
extravagantly  great,  that  they  could  not  make 
too  much  of  him.  And  as  he  grew  up,  they 
spoiled  him  so  completely,  by  the  want  of  all 
discretion  in  their  admiration  and  the  flattery 
of  their  affectionate  caresses,  that  after  a  while 
he  became  utterly  intolerable,  even  to  them- 
selves. And  this  came  about,  not  only  by 
reason  of  their  own  foolishness,  but  also  by 
the  very  disposition  and  qualities  of  that  son 
himself.  For  he  was  so  marvellously  beauti- 
ful, that  every  time  they  saw  him,  they  could 
hardly  believe  their  own  eyes,  and  were  ready 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  15 

to  abandon  the  body  out  of  joy.  And  in  the 
intoxication  of  dehght  they  gave  him  the  name 
of  Atirupa, '  which  was  no  more  than  he  de- 
served. And  he  became  a  byword  and  a  won- 
der in  the  world,  till  the  heart  of  his  mother 
almost  broke  with  the  swelling  of  its  own 
pride.  For  nothing  like  him  had  ever  been 
seen  by  anybody,  even  in  a  dream,  since  his 
beauty  did  not  in  the  least  resemble  that  of 
other  men,  but  hovered  as  it  were  half-way  be- 
tween one  sex  and  the  other,  as  if  the  Creator 
when  he  made  him,  unable  to  decide  whether 
to  make  of  him  a  man  or  a  woman,  had  com- 
bined, by  some  miracle  of  omnipotence  and 
skill,  the  fascinations  of  the  two.  For  though 
he  was  tall  and  strong,  yet  strange!  his  body 
and  his  limbs  were  rounded,  and  delicately 
shaped,  and  slender, with  soft  and  tender  hands 
and  feet  that  were  almost  too  small,  even  for  a 
girl;  and  as  he  moved,  he  fell  as  if  by  accident 
into  attitudes  that  as  it  were  imitated  un- 
consciously the  careless  grace  of  Shri,^  caught 

^I.e.,  of  extraordinary  and  surpassingheauty.  Pronounce  Uttirupa, 
^The  Hindoo  Aphrodite. 


i6  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

unaware  when  she  thinks  that  there  is  nobody 
to  look  at  her,  and  carved  by  a  cunning  sculp- 
tor in  stone  upon  a  temple  wall;  so  that 
the  eyes  of  all  followed  him  as  if  against 
their  will,  drawn  to  him  by  an  involimtary 
admiration  that  they  could  not  understand, 
not  realising  that  in  his  case  only,  the 
beauty  of  their  own  sex  was  reinforced  and, 
as  it  were,  reduplicated  with  the  magic  of 
a  spell,  by  the  mysterious  and  additional 
fascination  of  the  other.  And  his  face  was 
so  strange  that  whoever  saw  it,  started, 
and  fell,  after  a  little  while,  into  a  kind 
of  dream.  And  yet  this  was  not  merely  by 
reason  of  its  beauty,  though  that  beauty 
was  excessive,  resembling  a  vision  seen  sud- 
denly in  the  water  by  a  Dryad,  musing  at 
midnight  by  a  moonlit  pool,  with  eyes  that 
resembled  the  reflections  of  the  shadows  of  the 
lotuses,  and  eyebrows  that  met  together,  in 
the  middle  of  his  brow,  each  drawn  exactly  in 
imitation  of  the  other,  like  a  lotus-fibre  half 
in  and  half  out  of  water,  and  lips  that  were 
almost    too    red,    resembling    that   love-sick 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  17 

nymph's  own  pair  of  bimba  lips,  mirrored'  in 
the  clear  black  water,  and  dying  to  be  kissed  by 
others  like  themselves.  But  wonderful!  the 
Creator  had  put  into  his  face  some  ingredient 
of  recollection,  so  that  without  knowing  why, 
every  beholder  found  himself  plunged,  as  it 
were,  into  the  agitation  of  dreamy  reminis- 
cence, and  said  within  himself:  Ha!  now,  some- 
where or  other,  in  this  birth  or  another,  I  have 
seen  that  miracle  of  a  face  before.  And  each 
went  away  with  a  heart  that  was  unwilling  to 
depart,  haunted  as  it  were  by  dim  desire  for 
something,  he  knew  not  what,  stirring  in  the 
depths  of  his  memory  that  he  could  not  re- 
member and  yet  had  not  forgotten,  like  the 
thirst  for  the  repetition  of  the  sweetness  of 
a  bygone  dream."*  And  all  the  more,  because 
his  voice  resembled  a  music  that  was  playing 
a  melody  suggested  by  the  theme  of  his  face. 
For  it  was  low  and  soft,  like  that  of  a  woman, 


^  There  is  here  an  untranslatable  play  on  bimba,  the  fruit  (as 
we  say,  cherry  lip),  and  pratibimba,  a  reflection  in  the  water. 

'  All  this  depends  on  an  elaborate  play  on  the  double  meaning 
of  Smara,  a  name  for  the  God  of  Love,  which  means  memory  as 
well  as  love. 


1 8  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

and  yet  deep,  like  that  of  a  man:  and  it 
seemed  to  be  made  of  sound  stolen  from  the 
pipe  of  Krishna,  in  order  to  enable  itself  to 
steal  away  the  senses  of  the  world;  so  that, 
as  he  spoke,  the  listener  gradually  grew  be- 
wildered by  its  tone,  resembling  a  tired  travel- 
ler, falling  little  by  little  unconsciously  to 
sleep  as  he  sits  in  the  murmur  of  a  mountain 
stream.  And  whenever  he  chose,  he  could 
cajole  his  hearer,  and  make  him  do  almost 
anything  whatever,  so  hard  was  it  to  resist 
the  irresistible  persuasion  that  lurked,  like  the 
caressing  touch  of  a  gentle  woman's  hand,  in 
the  tone  of  that  quiet  and  insinuating  voice. 
And  yet,  all  this  beauty  was  nothing  but  a 
mask,  and  a  lie:  and  so  far  from  expressing 
the  nature  of  that  soul  which  it  covered  and 
disguised,  it  actually  added  evil  to  its  original 
defect;  and  he  resembled  a  bamboo,  looking 
like  a  very  incarnation  of  loveliness  and  sym- 
metry outside,  and  singing  in  the  wind,  and 
yet  absolutely  hollow  and  without  a  heart, 
within.  For  from  the  very  moment  he  was 
born,  he  did  exactly  as  he  pleased,  and  noth- 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  19 

ing  else,  being  as  capricious  as  the  breeze  that 
blows  only  as  it  chooses.  For  beginning  with 
his  parents,  nobody  ever  crossed  him,  or  placed 
any  obstacle  whatever  in  the  path  of  his  de- 
sires, which  grew  up  accordingly  like  a  very 
rank  jungle  impervious  to  the  light,  in  which 
his  will  wandered  like  a  wild  young  tiger-cub, 
wayward  and  passionate,  and  absolutely  un- 
controlled. And  he  gave  in  to  others,  and 
was  guided  by  them,  in  one  point  only,  and 
that  was  in  their  extravagant  admiration  of 
himself.  For  finding  others  worship  him,  he 
fell  in  with  their  opinion,  and  followed  their 
example :  and  became  as  it  were  the  devotee  at 
the  shrine  of  his  own  beauty,  making  it  a  deity 
to  which  every  other  thing  or  body  was  only 
fitted  to  be  sacrificed.  And  he  filled  his  rooms 
with  mirrors  of  many  colours,  made  of  crystal 
and  lapiz-lazuli,  and  polished  gold  and  silver, 
and  the  water  of  tanks  whose  slabs  were  of 
marble  of  every  variety  of  hue ;  and  he  used  to 
sit  alone,  when  he  had  nothing  else  to  do,  for 
hours,  watching  his  own  image  that  seemed  to 
offer  him  reciprocally  worship  as  he  watched 


20  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

it,  as  if  it  were  doubtful  which  of  the  two,  the 
reality  or  its  reflection,  was  the  deity,  and 
which  the  devotee. 

And  gradually  the  world  with  all  its  objects 
came  to  appear  in  his  eyes  as  nothing  but  a 
playground,  and  all  its  men  and  women  mere- 
ly his  own  animated  toys.  And  from  being 
utterly  indifferent  to  ever3^hing  but  his  own 
momentary  pleasure  and  caprice,  he  became, 
little  by  little,  first  callous  to  the  sufferings 
of  others,  and  finally  positively  cruel,  finding 
his  amusement  in  making  others  victims  to 
his  own  peremptory  desires.  And  his  appetite, 
like  a  fire,  grew  with  the  fuel  that  it  fed  upon, 
till  it  resembled  voracity  and  an  intolerable 
thirst  for  more.  But  as  long  as  he  remained 
still  a  child,  the  fire,  remaining  as  it  were 
without  its  proper  aliment,  lay  hidden,  till 
he  grew  into  a  man.  And  then,  all  at  once, 
it  blazed  out  furiously  like  a  very  conflagra- 
tion, striking  terror  into  all  the  subjects  of  the 
kingdom,  and  threatening  to  constime  them 
all,  like  forest  trees  and  grass. 

For  whereas,  till  then,  the  fury  of  his  self- 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  21 

will  had  been  scattered,  for  want  of  concen- 
tration' on  one  object  only,  manhood,  like  a 
flash  of  lightning,  suddenly  revealed  to  him 
that  very  object,  in  the  form  of  woman;  and 
he  discovered,  in  the  storm  of  his  delight, 
that  women  were  the  very  victims  for  whom 
he  had  been  blindly  groping  in  the  darkness 
all  his  life.  And  he  threw  himself  upon  them, 
like  a  prey,  finding  with  intoxication  that  the 
Creator  had  framed  him  as  a  weapon  con- 
structed wholly  for  their  destruction.  And 
he  said  to  himself,  in  triumph:  I  am,  as  it 
seems,  a  magnetic  gem,  omnipotent  and  ir- 
resistible, to  whose  attraction  the  entire  sex 
succumbs  inevitably,  like  grass.  And  this 
opinion  was  justified  by  the  conduct  of  the 
women  themselves.  For  every  woman  that 
set  eyes  on  him,  no  matter  who  she  was, 
fell  instantly,  like  a  stone  dropped  into  a  well 
without  a  bottom,  into  the  abyss  of  infatua- 
tion, and  utterly  forgot  not  only  her  relations 
and  her  home,  but  her  honour  and  herself 

^Yoga.  The  germ  of  truth,  and  it  is  a  large  one,  in  the 
philosophy  of  Yoga  is  the  doctrine,  which  is  proved  by  all 
experience,  that  concentration  is  the  secret  of  mastery. 


22  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

and  everything  in  the  three  worlds,  seized  as 
it  were  by  the  very  frenzy  of  devotion,  and 
anxious  only  to  immolate  herself  as  a  victim  on 
the  altar  of  his  divinity.  And  strange !  though 
he  treated  them  all  as  more  worthless  than 
grass,  throwing  them  away  almost  in  the  in- 
stant that  he  saw  them,  not  one  of  them  all  ever 
took  warning  by  the  fate  of  her  predecessors: 
and  so  far  were  they  from  shunning  him  as  the 
common  enemy  of  their  entire  sex,  that  on  the 
contrary,  they  seemed  to  struggle  with  one  an- 
other for  the  prize  of  his  momentary  affection, 
the  more,  the  more  openly  he  derided  them ;  as 
if  even  his  derision  and  the  cheapness  in  which 
he  openly  held  them,  increased  the  power  of  his 
charm.  Ha!  very  wonderful  is  the  contradic- 
tion in  the  heart  of  a  woman,  and  bitter  the 
irony  of  the  Creator  that  fashioned  it  out  of  so 
curious  an  antagonism!  For  she  flies  to  the 
man  who  makes  light  of  her,  as  if  pulled  by  a 
cord;  while  she  utterly  despises  the  man  who 
thinks  himself  nothing  in  comparison  with  her; 
saying  as  it  were,  by  her  own  behaviour,  that 
she  is  absolutely  worthless  in  her  own  esteem. 


IV 


So  then,  after  a  while,  the  heart  of  King 
Jaya  broke  within  him.  For  he  became  odi- 
ous in  the  eyes  of  all  his  subjects  by  reason  of 
the  behaviour  of  his  son,  who  paid  no  more  re- 
gard to  his  admonitions  than  a  mad  elephant 
does  to  a  rope  of  grass.  And  he  died,  con- 
sumed by  the  two  fires  of  a  burning  fever  and 
a  devouring  grief:  and  his  wife  followed  him 
through  the  flames  of  yet  another  fire,  as  if 
to  say :  I  will  die  no  other  death  than  his  own. 

And  when  the  funeral  obsequies  had  been 
completed,  there  came  a  day,  soon  after,  when 
Atirupa  was  sitting  in  his  palace,  with  some  of 
his  attendants  round  him,  gazing  at  his  own 
image,  that  was  reflected  in  a  tiny  mirror  set 
on  his  finger  in  a  ring.  And  he  was  plunged 
in  the  contemplation  of  himself,  shadowed  by 
a  melancholy  that  arose,  not  from  grief  atj 

2^ 


24  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

the  loss  of  his  parents,  but  dejection  caused 
by  the  gloom  of  the  period  of  mourning:  and 
as  he  sat,  he  said  within  himself:  I  am  losing 
time,  and  growing  old,  and  letting  the  oppor- 
tunity slip  by  me  unimproved,  and  this  bloom 
of  mine  is  wasted,  and,  as  it  were,  lying  idle, 
for  want  of  its  proper  mirror,  which  is  not 
this  ring,  but  a  pair  of  new  eyes,  which  would 
look  back  at  my  own,  not  as  this  does,  va- 
cantly and  without  a  soul,  but  lit  up  by  the 
soft  lustre  of  passion  and  admiration.  And  all 
at  once,  he  started  up,  and  exclaimed  aloud: 
What!  do  ye  all  sit  easily,  when  I  am  dying 
for  lack  of  recreation?  Know  ye  not  that 
even  the  jackal  is  in  danger  when  the  lion  is 
left  without  a  prey?  Even  now  I  am  de- 
bating with  myself  whether  it  would  not  be 
a  good  thing  to  have  one  of  you  chosen  by 
lot,  and  trampled  by  an  elephant,  to  be  a 
lesson  to  the  rest. 

And  then,  as  they  all  gazed  at  him  with 
anxiety,  each  fearing  for  himself,  he  looked 
at  their  confusion,  as  if  with  enjoyment, 
and  said  again:    What,  with  so  many  idle 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  25 

all  about  me,  am  I,  forsooth,  to  sit  waiting, 
for  fortune  to  come  to  me,  like  an  abhisarikd, 
of  her  own  accord?  Nay,  it  were  well  enough, 
could  I  even  see  coming  towards  me  an  abhis- 
arikd  of  any  kind.  But  the  women  of  this 
city  grow,  as  it  seems,  older  and  more  ugly 
every  day:  for  I  have  skimmed  its  cream, 
and  now  nothing  is  left  but  curd,  and  dregs, 
and  whey,  and  like  the  ocean  after  its  churn- 
ing, all  its  treasures  are  exhausted,  leaving 
nothing  but  crocodiles  and  monsters,  and 
bitterness,  and  brine. 

So  then,  wishing  to  cajole  him,  one  of 
them  replied:  Maharaj,  were  this  city  as 
full  of  beauties  as  the  very  sea  of  gems,  how 
could  any  one  of  them  come  to  thee  in  broad 
daylight?  For  is  it  not  laid  down  in  all  the 
Shastras,  that  even  an  ahhisarikd,"-  were  she 
dying  for  her  lover,  must  notwithstanding 
observe  times  and  seasons,  choosing  for  her 
expedition   only   proper   opportunities,    such 

*  There  is  a  ludicrous  pedantry  about  the  elaborate  categories 
of  Hindoo  sages:  they  make  grammatical  rules  even  for  every 
department  of  erotics:  as  if  it  were  necessary  for  ladies  to  learn 
the  grammar  of  the  subject,  before  they  could  make  love! 


26  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

as  are  afforded  by  a  winter  night,  or  a  dense 
fog,  or  the  confusion  caused  by  a  whirlwind 
or  an  earthquake  or  an  uproar,  or  a  revolution 
in  the  state,  or  an  illness  of  the  king,  or  a  festi- 
val, when  all  the  citzens  are  drunk,  or  sleeping, 
or  when  the  city  is  on  fire.  But  as  it  is,  not 
one  of  these  occasions  is  present,  to  enable 
her  to  come  to  thee  escaping  observation. 
And  a  woman  of  good  family  is  very  different 
from  a  dancing  girl.  For  when  she  leaves 
her  home,  on  such  an  assignation,  she  wraps 
herself  up,  disguising  her  identity,  and  creeps 
along  timidly  making  herself  small,  wishing 
even  darkness  darker,  in  addition  to  the  screen 
provided  by  all  the  other  circumstances  that 
favour  her  attempt. 

And  Atirupa  said:  There  is  no  difficulty 
in  this:  for  could  I  think  that  there  was  even 
one  woman  in  the  city  awaiting  such  an  op- 
portunity, who  was  worthy  of  it,  I  would 
very  soon  oblige  her,  by  burning  the  city  to 
the  ground,  reducing  it  to  ashes  for  her  con- 
venience and  my  own. 

And  all  at  once,  one  answered  from  behind, 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  27 

who  had  entered  as  he  spoke,  unobserved: 
Ha!  Maharaj,  then,  as  it  seems,  I  am  come 
in  the  very  nick  of  time,  to  save  thy  city  from 
such  a  miserable  end. 

And  Atirupa  turned,  and  exclaimed  joy- 
fully: Ha!  Chamu, '  art  thou  returned?  I 
was  beginning  to  think  thee  lost,  like  a  stone 
dropped  to  the  very  bottom  of  the  sea.  And 
Chamu  said:  Thou  art  right:  for  I  am  like 
the  oyster,  and  contain  a  pearl. 

And  he  looked  at  Atirupa,  and  laughed, 
rubbing  his  hands  together,  with  cunning 
in  his  eyes,  that  resembled  those  of  a  weasel. 
And  he  said:  Maharaj,  as  I  entered,  I  heard 
thee  wishing  for  Shri^  to  visit  thee  in  the  form 
of  an  abhisarikd;  and  lo!  here  she  is,  in  my 
form.  And  do  not  despise  her  on  account 
of  my  deformity:  for  Shri  is  a  lady,  and  ca- 
pricious, and  comes  in  strange  disguises.  Thou 
knowest,  that  the  city  being  dismal  by  reason 
of  the  ot)sequies,  I  seized  my  opportunity, 
and  went  away  on  a  visit  to  my  maternal 

^  Pronounce   Chummoo. 

'The  goddess  of  Fortune  and  Beauty.  She  is  the  very  in- 
carnation of  the  abhisarikd,  since  she  comes  of  her  own  accord. 


28  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

uncle,  who  lives  far  off  in  a  village  in  the  wood 
that  lies  in  the  eastern  quarter.  And  on  my 
journey  back,  I  lost  my  way  in  the  wood,  and 
went  astray:  and  finally,  growing  very  tired, 
I  lay  down  in  a  thicket.  And  as  I  rested, 
after  a  while,  I  heard  voices  coming  in  my 
direction.  And  lying  hidden,  I  looked  out, 
and  watched  the  speakers,  till  one  of  them,  as 
I  think,  caught  sight  of  my  face  among  the 
trees,  and  took  fright  at  its  ugliness,  and  went 
away  with  his  companion.  And  afterwards 
I  rose  myself  and  came  away;  and  now,  here 
I  am. 

And  Atirupa  looked  at  him,  with  dis- 
appointment: and  he  said:  O  Chamu,  is  this 
thy  story,  and  is  this  all? 

And  Chamu  laughed  softly,  and  he  said: 
Maharaj,  he  is  a  sage,  who  knows  where  to 
stop.  But  I  will  have  compassion  on  thy 
ciuriosity,  and  this  much  I  will  tell  thee  in 
addition,  that  one  of  the  speakers  was  a 
woman.  And  yet  I  am  not  sure  about  it, 
for  if  there  is  another  woman  like  her  in  the 
three  worlds,  I  will  cut  off  my  own  head,  and 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  29 

give  to  thee  as  a  footstool,  since  it  is  fit  for 
absolutely  nothing  else.  And  even  as  it  is, 
I  think,  after  all,  that  I  must  have  fallen 
asleep  in  the  clump  of  bushes,  and  seen  her  in 
a  dream:  compounding  for  myself  a  vision  out 
of  old  memories  of  Apsarases  and  Yakshinis, 
and  Nagas,  and  fragments  of  old  fairy  tales 
and  stories  that  my  mother  told  me  long  ago, 
when  I  was  a  child. 

And  Atirupa  looked  at  him  with  surprise; 
and  he  said:  Chamu,  this  is  very  strange, 
and  thou  art  not  like  thyself.  Hast  thou  been 
eating  poppy, '  or  art  thou  only  drunk  with 
wine?  For  it  is  no  ordinary  vision  that  could 
turn  thee  into  a  poet.  Come  now,  go  on. 
Describe  for  me  the  beauty  that  has  awoken 
such  emotion  in  a  soul  as  dull  and  muddy  as 
thy  own. 

And  Chamu  said:  O  Maharaj,  who  can  de- 
scribe the  indescribable?  There  are  things 
that  cannot  be  described,  but  only  seen :  hardly 

^  Ahiphena,  "snake-foam,"  said  by  Udoy  Chand  Dutt  in  his 
Materia  Medica  Indica  to  be  derived  from  the  Arabic  ajyoon^ 
as  it  was  apparently  unknown  in  India  before  the  Mussulman 
invasion. 


30  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

even  then  to  be  beheved,  when  gazed  at  by 
the  eye.  Can  anything  imitate  and  reproduce 
the  beauty  of  the  blue  lotus,  but  the  pool  in 
which  it  is  reflected?  The  wandering  wind 
may  carry,  like  myself,  its  fragrance  to  a  dis- 
tance, but  cannot  perform  the  work  that  be- 
longs only  to  the  mirror  of  the  pool.  So  take 
counsel  of  the  wind,  and  go  thyself,  and  be- 
come the  pool. 

And  Atirupa  laughed  joyfully,  and  he  ex- 
claimed: O  Chamu,  thou  art  certainly  be- 
witched, and  this  wood-nymph  has  cast  over 
thee  a  spell :  turning  thee  into  a  very  breeze  of 
sandal-wood  from  Malaya. 

And  Chamu  said:  Laugh  Maharaj:  and  as 
I  told  thee  it  would  be,  so  it  is:  thou  dost 
not  believe.  But  when  thou  hast  seen  her 
eyes,  and  when  thou  hast  heard  her  voice, 
and  when  thou  hast  gazed  at  her,  as  I  did, 
coming  straight  towards  thee,  walking,  thou 
wilt  laugh  no  longer:  for  the  scorn  incarnate 
in  the  pride  of  her  great  breast  will  make  thee 
giddy,  and  the  roundness  of  her  hips  will  steal 
thy  heart  and  burn  it  to  a  cinder,  and  the 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  31 

jingle  of  her  anklets  will  haunt  thy  ears,  as  it 
does  mine,  like  the  sound  of  a  stream,  keep- 
ing time  to  the  dance  of  her  two  little  feet  as 
they  come  towards  thee,  ti  1  thou  wilt  find 
thyself  wishing  that  some  strange  magic  might 
keep  on  drawing  thee  back  for  ever,  so  only 
that  thou  couldst  go  on  gazing,  as  she  kept 
on  coming,  like  an  everlasting  incarnation  of 
the  rapture  of  anticipation  of  touching  and 
caressing  what  it  maddens  thee  to  see.  Ma- 
haraj,  I  tell  thee,  that  were  the  three  great 
worlds  but  one  colossal  oyster  shell,  she  is  its 
very  pearl.  And  like  a  cunning  diver,  I  have 
been  down  into  the  sea,  and  seen  it,  and  now 
I  can  take  thee  where  it  is,  to  see  it  for  thyself. 
And  as  I  think,  thou  wilt  discover,  she  is  a 
quarry  to  thy  taste,  who  will  save  thee  from 
the  necessity  of  seeking  for  others  in  the  ashes 
of  thy  town. 


II 

THE  THIRST  OF  AN  ANTELOPE 


33 


I 


Gazelle,  gazelle,  dost  understand 
Why  the  old  skulls  grin  in  this  silent  land? 
My  feet  are  fleet,  and  I  drink  at  will, 
There  is  something  blue  in  the  distance  still. 


II 


But  the  old  skulls  grin  in  the  silent  waste. 
Gazelle,  gazelle,  make  haste,  make  haste! 
I  travel  fast,  and  I  fear  no  ill. 
There  is  something  blue  in  the  distance  still. 


Ill 


The  old  skulls  grinned  in  the  silent  sand. 
They  beckoned  her  like  a  bony  hand : 
Gazelle,  gazelle,  hast  drunk  thy  fill  ? 
Is  there  something  blue  in  the  distance,  still  ? 

KURANGI. 


34 


I 

A  DAPPLED  DAWN 


35 


A  DAPPLED  DAWN 


Now  in  the  meanwhile  Bimba,  when  his 
cousin  drove  him  off  his  throne,  had  fled 
away  to  the  eastern  quarter,  taking  his  daugh- 
ter with  him.  And  he  took  up  his  home  in  the 
forest,  and  there  he  Hved,  in  a  Httle  hut  on  the 
side  of  a  hill,  just  where  the  desert  ended,  and 
the  trees  of  the  wood  began,  having  fallen  from 
the  state  of  a  King  to  that  of  a  fugitive  and 
a  hunter,  living  by  the  chase  and  the  fruits  of 
the  forest  trees,  and  drinking  streams  instead 
of  wine.  And  so  he  continued  to  live,  year 
by  year,  mourning  for  his  wife,  and  bitterly 
hating  his  cousin,  disgusted  with  the  world, 
with  no  companion  but  his  daughter.  And 
gradually,  as  time  went  on,  he  utterly  forgot 
his  kingdom  and  all  his  former  life,  growing 

37 


38  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

ever  fonder  of  the  forest  that  he  lived  in,  and 
saying  to  himself:  Now  is  the  wood  become 
my  wife,  since  my  other  wife  is  gone. '  And 
the  only  thing  that  matters  now  is  the  daugh- 
ter that  she  left  behind,  as  if  to  keep  my  mem- 
ory green  of  what  she  was  herself.  So  now, 
then,  I  will  change  her  name,  lest  some  day  in 
the  future  it  should  betray  her  to  my  cousin : 
for  her  name  would  be  a  clue,  leading  to  her 
destruction.  And  as  a  rule,  to  lose  a  name 
is  the  same  thing  as  to  disappear,  and  die,  and 
be  forgotten.  So  she  shall  die,  as  Alipriya, 
to  be  reborn  as  Aranyani.  And  what  does  the 
title  matter?  For  the  bees  will  love  her  just 
as  well,  by  one  name  as  the  other.'' 

So  then  Aranyani  grew  up  alone  with  her 
father  in  the  forest,  with  her  identity  disguised, 
turned  as  it  were  from  a  queen  into  a  wood- 
man's daughter,  and  lying  hidden  and  un- 
known, like  a  pearl  in  an  ocean  shell.     And  yet 

^An  untranslatable  play  on  dari,  wood,  and  sundari,  a  beauti- 
ful woman. 

^Alipriya,  "leloved  of  the  bees,"  a  name  of  the  trumpet 
flower,  Bignonia  suaveolens.  Aranyani,  sl  forest  goddess,  nymph, 
QT  dryad.     Pronounce  Urriin-nyani. 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  39 

she  resembled  fire,  that  refuses  to  be  concealed, 
betraying  its  true  nature  through  no  matter 
what  envelops  it,  and  shining  through,  by- 
chinks  and  holes,  the  wrapping  that  would 
hide  it,  even  when  it  does  not  burn.  For 
brought  up  in  the  forest  though  she  was,  and 
half  alone,  since  her  father  often  left  her  by 
herself,  all  day  long,  yet  strange  to  say!  the 
rudeness  of  her  wild  condition  ran  over  her, 
leaving  her  soul  untouched,  like  the  water 
running  in  crystal  drops  that  beautify  but  do 
not  wet  the  neck  of  a  royal  swan.  And  one 
day  she  was  discovered  like  a  treasure  in  the 
wood  by  a  band  of  hermits'  daughters,  that 
were  roaming  at  a  distance  from  the  hermit- 
age, away  in  the  forest's  heart.  And  those 
daughters  of  the  sages  all  fell  suddenly  in 
love  with  her  at  once,  not  only  for  her  eyes, 
that  reminded  them  of  the  deer  that  were 
their  playmates  in  their  home,  but  still  more 
for  the  strange  and  wild  sweetness  of  her  soul, 
that  resembled  absolutely  nothing  but  itself. 
And  every  now  and  then,  they  used  to  come 
and  play  with  her,  when  they  rambled  in  the 


40  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

wood,  telling  her  inniimerable  stories  which 
they  heard  from  their  fathers,  those  mines  of 
sacred  wisdom.  And  then,  very  soon,  those 
daughters  of  the  hermits  found,  to  their  amaze- 
ment, that  they  resembled  fools,  potuing 
water  into  a  well.  For  she  remembered  every- 
thing when  she  had  only  heard  it  once, '  and 
meditating  over  it  alone,  not  only  squeezed 
out  of  its  mango  all  the  juice  which  it  con- 
tained, but  planted  its  kernel  like  a  seed  of 
heavenly  wisdom  in  her  heart,  and  watering 
it  with  her  own  imagination,  turned  it  pre- 
sently into  a  new  and  strange  tree,  loaded  with 
peculiar  flowers  and  fruits  of  its  own:  so  that 
as  she  grew  gradually  up,  she  resembled  a 
receptacle  of  the  essence  of  old  lore,  mixed 
with  a  native  and  original  savoiu:  of  herself. 
Ha!  very  wonderful  indeed  are  the  influences 
that  rise  up  out  of  a  former  birth,  since  even  in 
this  lower  form  of  a  himter's  daughter  the 

'  Ekashrutadhard.  This  word  exhibits  the  opinion  entertained 
by  the  Hindus  as  to  the  close  connection  existing  between  a 
powerful  intellect  and  a  retentive  memory.  Such  a  quality  indi- 
cates the  highest  kind  of  pundit:  and  it  should  be  recollected  that 
Saraswati  is  the  divinity  of  wisdom,  the  pundit  par  excellence. 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  41 

nattire  of  that  incomparable  goddess  over- 
flowed, like  a  holy  sap  in  the  dark  heart  of  a 
forest  tree,  and  welled  out  abundantly,  till 
it  covered  the  coarse  bark  with  fragrant  buds 
and  shoots,  and  flowers  of  immortal  scent  and 
hue.  For  her  body  kept  pace  with  the  progress 
of  her  soul,  as  if  out  of  rivalry  and  jealousy 
unwilling  to  lag  behind  it  in  the  acquisition 
of  ornaments  and  graces.  And  having  no 
other  models,  it  found  itself  obliged  to  imi- 
tate the  objects  that  made  up  the  atmos- 
phere and  soil  in  which  it  grew;  till  at  last  the 
deer  and  the  blue  lotuses  gazed  upon  her 
eyes,  and  the  red  fruits  and  gunjd  berries  at  her 
lips,  and  the  creepers  at  her  arms,  with  envy 
and  amazement:  and  the  tamdla  shadows 
turned  pale  when  they  looked  at  her  hair,  and 
the  trunks  of  the  nyagrodha  trees  despaired, 
gazing  at  the  curve  of  her  waist  as  it  sank  into 
the  outline  of  her  heavy  hips,  and  the  swans 
and  the  elephants  blushed  with  shame  to  see 
her  walk,  and  the  gourds  swelled  till  they 
burst  with  jealousy,  unable  to  rival  the  pro- 
tuberance of  those  two  disdainful  sisters,  her 


42  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

inimitable  breasts,  and  the  bees  grew  mad, 
as  if  intoxicated  with  honey  sweeter  than  their 
own,  at  the  fragrance  that  floated  from  the 
flower  of  her  mouth. 

And  then  strange !  just  at  the  very  moment 
when  she  turned  from  a  child  into  a  woman, 
there  came  over  her  a  change  that  resembled 
the  presence  of  a  single  overhanging  cloud  in 
the  ruby  crystal  of  a  clear  pale  dawn.  For 
though  her  father  told  her  something  of  her 
story  and  his  own,  yet  he  never  told  her  all, 
whetting  all  the  more  her  curiosity  by  what 
he  did  not  tell,  which  like  a  hidden  secret  she 
strove  to  discover  for  herself  by  means  of  the 
careless  hints  that  fell  every  now  and  then 
from  his  mouth  unawares,  like  clues.  And 
the  thought  that  she  was  the  daughter  of  a 
King  flitted  in  her  mind,  and  appeared  to 
disappear  continually,  coming  and  going,  as 
often  as  she  sat  musing  in  the  twilight,  like 
the  bats  in  the  shadows  of  the  surrounding 
dusk.  And  she  mixed  this  conviction  with 
the  rosy  hope  of  the  dawn  of  her  own  maiden- 
hood, and  with  visions  which  she  would  blush 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  43 

like  that  dawn  to  avow  even  to  herself,  and 
with  fictions  of  her  own  imagination  that  was 
filled  with  old  legends  and  stories,  and  she 
brooded  over  a  future  that  was  suggested  by 
the  past  till  it  turned  into  a  dream,  half 
pleasant  and  half  melancholy  for  want  of  its 
unlikelihood,  that  haunted  her,  and  never 
left  her,  resembling  the  colour  of  the  blue 
shadow  that  hovers  on  the  pure  snow  of  thy 
father's'^  western  slopes,  just  before  the  coming 
of  the  early  sun.  For  though  she  was  unaware 
of  it  herself,  she  was  plunged  in  the  loneli- 
ness of  sex,  arising  from  the  dim  yearning  of 
her  as  yet  untouched  affection,  and  longing 
for  the  thing  that  every  maiden  waits  for, 
like  the  night,  in  the  form  of  a  lover,  to  burst 
out  suddenly  into  red  emotion  and  an  ecstasy 
of  joy.  And  sometimes,  as  she  sat  alone 
dreaming,  and  gazing  as  she  loved  to  do  out 
into  the  desert,  that  stretched  away  below 
the  hill  she  lived  on  towards  the  setting  sun, 
visions  of  the  kings  and  princes  and  lovers  of 
her  stories  assembling  in  crowds  at  her  own 

^  Sc.  the  Himalaya. 


44  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

Swayamwara  '  floated  with  indistinct  and 
unimaginable  beauty  in  the  blue  haze  of  the 
sand,  with  an  intoxicating  fascination  that 
almost  took  away  her  breath,  till  she  was 
amazed  and  even  frightened  to  find  her  own 
heart  furiously  beating,  and  shaking  into  agi- 
tation the  wave  of  that  bosom  which  there 
was  nobody  to  see,  as  if  it  was  ashamed  of 
her  and  angry  with  itself. 

And  yet,  with  the  exception  of  her  father,  she 
had  never  seen  any  man  but  one,  who  entered 
into  her  forest  life  merely  like  one  of  its  trees, 
for  she  had  been  accustomed  to  see  him,  every 
now  and  then,  ever  since  she  was  a  child.  And 
this  was  a  young  woodman,  who  lived  a  long 
way  off  in  the  wood.  And  he  used  to  go 
hunting  with  her  father,  who  had  found  him 
in  the  forest:  and  he  came  every  now  and 
then  to  see  them,  since  her  father  was  pleased 
with  him  for  his  good  nature  and  simplicity, 
resembling  as  it  did  the  clearness  of  a  stream. 

^  The  old  epics  are  full  of  stories  of  these  gatherings,  held  to 
enable  the  daughters  of  Kings  to  choose  their  own  husbands. 
The  story  of  the  marriage  in  Herodotus,  about  which  Hippocleides 
did  not  care,  is  one  of  the  few  parallels  in  the  west. 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  45 

And  he  was  as  tall  as  a  shala  tree,  and  very 
strong,  and  very  brown  and  hairy,  and  though 
his  name  was  Babhru, '  yet  her  father  always 
called  him  Bruin,  ^  and  Aranyani  knew  him 
first  only  by  the  nickname:  for  when  she  was 
a  child,  he  used  to  play  with  her,  as  often  as  he 
came.  And  so  as  she  grew  up,  she  looked 
upon  him  always  with  the  eyes  of  a  child, 
never  even  dreaming  that  her  own  alteration 
might  produce  any  alteration  in  himself,  as 
it  did.  For  little  by  little,  as  her  beauty  grew, 
so  did  his  affection;  till  at  last  it  turned  into 
a  passionate  devotion,  that  remained  not- 
withstanding absolutely  pure,  and  free  from 
any  taint  of  evil,  like  the  soil  in  which  it  grew. 
And  finally,  he  could  not  keep  away  from  her. 
And  he  came  oftener  and  oftener  to  see 
them,  till  her  father  was  on  the  very  point 
of  forbidding  him  to  come.  And  then,  sud- 
denly, Babhru  asked  him  to  give  Aranyani 
to  him  as  a  wife. 

And  Bimba  looked  at  him,  as  if  struck  by 

'Tawny:  reddish  brown.     Pronounce  Bub-bhroo. 
'Achcha,  a  corruption  of  Riksha,  just  as  we  say  "Bruin"  in- 
stead of  "Bear." 


46  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

the  very  thunderbolt  of  astonishment,  for 
though  he  was  fond  of  Babhru,  yet  the  idea  of 
such  a  son-in-law  was  so  outrageous  that  it 
had  never  even  occurred  to  him  at  all.  And 
like  a  flash  of  lightning,  he  suddenly  became 
aware  of  his  daughter's  own  attraction,  and 
the  danger  of  the  proximity  of  butter  to  the 
fire.  And  though  utterly  despising  Babhru 
for  a  son-in-law,  he  could  not  tell  him  why. 
Therefore  he  banished  him  altogether,  and 
not  only  would  not  give  him  Aranyani,  but 
actually  forbade  him  to  see  her  any  more :  as  it 
were,  returning  upon  Babhru  the  thunderbolt 
that  had  fallen  on  himself:  so  that  that  un- 
happy son-in-law  came  within  a  little  of  aban- 
doning the  body,  for  grief  and  amazement, 
and  remorse,  at  ever  having  asked  a  question 
that  had  produced  so  terrible  a  consequence, 
the  very  opposite  of  that  at  which  it  aimed. 
For  even  to  forsake  the  society  of  Bimba  was 
a  grief  to  him,  since  he  loved  him  and  looked 
up  to  him  as  a  dog  does  to  his  master.  But 
the  thought  of  losing  that  of  Aranyani  was 
exactly  like  a  sword  driven  through  the  very 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  47 

middle  of  his  heart.  And  leaving  it  behind 
him,  as  it  were,  together  with  his  reason  that 
abondoned  him,  he  went  away  hanging  down 
his  head,  alone. 

But  unable  to  endure  separation,  yet  un- 
willing to  disobey  Bimba,  he  used  to  come 
stealthily  and  lie  lurking  in  the  bushes,  watch- 
ing, to  catch  sight  of  Aranyani.  And  some- 
times, seizing  his  opportunity,  when  he  knew 
that  her  father  was  away,  he  would  creep  out, 
trembling  like  a  coward,  and  speak  to  her. 
And  Aranyani,  displeased  at  him  for  coming 
to  see  her  without  her  father's  knowledge  or 
permission,  and  not  reciprocating  his  passion 
in  the  least,  yet  partly  out  of  pity,  and  partly 
out  of  kindness  arising  from  recollection  of  his 
playing  with  her  in  the  past,  and  it  may  be, 
partly  just  a  very  little  pleased  with  his 
honest  admiration,  and  willing  to  waste  a 
little  of  her  time  in  teasing  him,  for  want  of 
a  better  lover,  would  sometimes  talk  to  him 
a  little,  and  laugh  at  him  and  tell  him  stories, 
and  send  him  away  more  utterly  infatuated, 
and  more  happy,  and  more  miserable  than 


48  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

ever,  after  making  him  promise  never  to  come 
again.  And  every  time  he  promised,  and 
went  away  only  to  return  again  immediately, 
simply  because  he  could  not  help  it:  dreading 
her  reproof  every  time  he  dared  to  come,  yet 
ready  for  all  that  to  risk  his  life  a  himdred  times 
over,  only  to  bask  once  more  in  the  nectar  of 
the  sunshine  of  that  reproof.  For  the  words 
of  the  straw,  promising  not  to  answer  to  the 
call  of  the  amber  that  attracts  it,  are  void  of 
meaning,  and  perish  in  the  very  moment  of 
their  utterance,  like  pictures  drawn  on  the 
siuface  of  a  running  stream. 


II 

So,  then,  there  came  a  day,  when  Bimba 
went  away  to  hunt  in  the  forest,  leaving  Aran- 
yani  alone  at  home.  And  on  that  morning, 
she  was  sitting  by  herself  in  her  customary 
seat,  on  the  trunk  of  a  fallen  tree,  gazing,  with 
her  chin  resting  on  her  hand,  away  over  the 
desert,  that  lay  before  her  like  an  incar- 
nation of  the  colour  of  vague  youth-longing, 
ending  in  a  blue  dream.  And  wholly  intent 
on  her  own  thoughts,  she  remained  sitting  ab- 
solutely still,  totally  unconscious  of  all  around 
her,  as  if  her  soul,  in  imitation  of  what  it  gazed 
at,  had  become  the  exact  mirror  of  the  silent 
desert's  inarticulate  and  incommunicable 
dream.  And  yet,  from  time  to  time,  a  smile 
stole  into  her  lips  of  its  own  accord,  as  if  be- 
traying against  her  will  some  sweet  and  secret 
hoard  of  delicious  joy  within,  that  she  strove 

4  49 


50  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

in  vain  to  hide.  And  every  now  and  then 
her  eyes  grew  a  httle  brighter,  and  there  came 
a  flush  over  her  face,  and  a  little  tremor  ran  as 
it  were  all  over  her,  like  the  ripple  that  comes 
and  goes  upon  the  bosom  of  a  lake,  stirred  by 
a  play  of  wind. 

So  as  she  sat,  it  happened  that  Babhru 
came  slowly  through  the  wood,  looking  for  her, 
and  knowing  her  customary  haunts.  And  sud- 
denly catching  sight  of  her  sitting,  he  hesi- 
tated for  a  moment,  and  then  came  quietly 
and  stood  behind  her,  a  little  way  off,  half- 
pleased  that  she  did  not  see  him,  and  a  little 
bit  afraid  of  the  moment  when  she  should. 
And  there  he  remained  silent,  yet  with  a  heart 
beating  so  violently  that  it  shook  him  till  he 
trembled,  gazing  with  ecstasy  and  adoration 
at  the  outline  of  her  throat  and  her  chin,  and 
the  corner  of  her  lips,  which  he  could  only 
just  see,  round  the  curve  of  her  cheek.  And 
after  a  little  while,  longing  to  see  more  of 
those  lips,  he  leaned  eagerly  forward,  and  put 
out  one  foot  without  looking  where  it  fell;  and 
stepping  on  a  dry  twig,  it  broke  with  a  snap. 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  51 

And  at  the  sound,  instantly  she  started  up, 
and  looked  round,  as  if  in  terror.  And  strange ! 
when  she  saw  him,  there  came  into  her  face 
surprise  and  displeastu-e,  that  were  mingled 
with  relief,  and  even  disappointment,  as  if  she 
had  expected,  and  hoped,  and  yet  even  feared, 
to  see  someone  else.  And  while  she  gazed 
silently  at  him  in  confusion,  Babhru  said 
sadly:  Aranyani,  of  what  or  of  whom  didst 
thou  think  so  intently  as  to  be  unaware  of 
my  approach?  For  thy  lips  seemed  to  me  to 
be  smiling,  as  if  with  anticipation,  and  very 
sure  I  am  that  it  was  not  at  the  thought  of 
me  or  my  coming  that  they  smiled. 

And  Aranyani  blushed,  and  instantly 
frowned,  at  her  own  involuntary  blush. 
And  she  said,  as  if  haughtily:  O  Babhru,  what 
are  my  thoughts  to  thee?  And  are  they  thy 
servants?  And  what  right  hast  thou  to  be 
jealous  of  my  thoughts,  who  hast  not  even 
the  title  or  permission  to  be  here  at  all? 
Didst  thou  not  promise  not  to  come  again? 
and  yet  here  thou  art  for  all  that,  watching 
to  surprise  my  very  thoughts,  while  all  the 


52  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

while  I  do  not  think  of  thee  at  all.  Yet 
even  so,  here  there  is  certainly  no  rival  to 
thyself.  And  Babhru  said  bitterly:  Rivals 
could  not  make  the  matter  worse,  since  by  thy 
own  confession  thou  dost  not  think  of  me  at  all. 
Even  without  rivals,  I  am  utterly  rejected  and 
despised,  by  thee  and  by  thy  father.  Then  she 
said  kindly:  Nay,  Babhru,  not  by  me.  Thou 
art  for  me,  just  what  thou  always  wert  before. 
And  Babhru  said:  Alas!  that  is  my  very  grief. 
For  I  woiild  have  thee  not  the  same,  but  some- 
thing more.  Then  said  Aranyani :  What  more, 
O  Babhru?  And  he  looked  at  her  sadly,  and 
said:  Dear  Aranyani,  couldst  thou  not  love  me 
just  a  very  little?  And  she  laughed,  and  said : 
Poor  Bruin,  do  I  then  not  love  thee  very  well? 
And  Babhru  said  with  emphasis :  Love !  Thou 
dost  not  so  much  as  understand  the  meaning 
of  the  word. 

And  she  looked  at  him  for  a  moment, 
with  eyes  whose  expression  he  could  not 
comprehend,  and  she  drew  a  deep  breath, 
and  turned  away.  And  she  said  lightly :  Do  I 
not?  then  thou  shalt  tell  me  all  about  it:  for  I 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  53 

will  allow  thee  to  stay  with  me,  for  a  very  little 
while,  just  to  show  thee  that  I  love  thee  a 
very  little.  Sit  down,  then,  beside  me,  and 
look  not  so  melancholy,  or  I  shall  begin  to  think 
to  love  is  to  be  wretched ;  whereas  I  had  imag- 
ined, in  my  innocence,  the  very  contrary.  And 
Babhru  said:  Thou  art  utterly  deceived:  for 
love  is  misery.  And  she  laughed,  and  ex- 
claimed: Why,  then,  I  am  better  as  I  am 
without  it.  What!  wouldst  thou  have  me 
miserable?  And  he  said:  Well  can  I  tell  thee 
from  experience,  that  every  lover  must  be 
miserable,  when,  like  myself,  he  cannot  gain 
his  object.  And  now  I  could  almost  wish  evil 
to  thy  father,  since  he  it  is  who  stands,  like  a 
cloud,  between  me  and  the  moon  of  my  desire. 
And  she  said:  What  is  this  much  desired 
moon?  And  he  said:  Thou  knowest  very  well, 
it  is  thyself:  and  I  long  to  have  thee  for  my 
wife,  and  live  with  thee  alone,  for  ever  and 
ever,  in  the  wood. 

Then  said  Aranyani:  O  Bruin,  it  may  be, 
the  attainment  of  thy  desire  might  sorely 
disappoint  thy  expectation,   after  all;   since 


54  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

many  times,  those  who  have  risen  to  the 
very  stmimit  of  the  mountain  of  their  hopes 
have  found  themselves  miserably  deceived, 
and  fallen  suddenly  to  the  very  bottom  of  de- 
spair with  a  crash,  like  Chandana.  And 
Babhru  said:  Who  was  Ghandana?  And  he 
said  within  himself:  Let  her  tell  me  about 
Chandana  or  anybody  else,  so  only  that  I  can 
cheat  her  into  allowing  me  to  sit  here,  and 
watch  her  lips  moving,  and  look  into  her  eyes. 
And  Aranyani  said:  Babhru,  thou  art  so 
simple,  and  thy  soul  is  like  crystal,  so  that  I 
can  see  into  thy  secret  thoughts  without 
needing  to  be  enlightened  by  thy  voice.  Didst 
thou  not  say  to  thyself:  I  care  absolutely 
nothing  for  Chandana,  so  only  that  I  may 
listen  while  she  talks?  And  Babhru  hung  his 
head  with  a  blush.  And  Aranyani  clapped 
her  hands  in  triimiph,  and  exclaimed:  See! 
O  Bruin,  thou  art  guilty.  Yet  despair  not, 
for  thou  shalt  hear  all  about  Chandana,  just 
the  same.  Know,  that  long  ago,  there  was 
a  King  who  had  innumerable  wives,  and  fifty 
sons,  of  whom  this  very  Chandana  was  one. 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  55 

Now  all  these  sons  lived  in  anxiety,  saying  to 
themselves:  Which  of  us  all  will  be  the  heir  to 
the  throne,  and  succeed  our  father  when  he 
dies?  So  they  remained  rivals,  and  each  had 
his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  others,  fearing  to  be 
supplanted.  So  Chandana's  case  was  worse 
than  thine,  0  Bruin,  since  thou  art  without  a 
rival.  And  then,  after  a  while,  that  old 
King,  out  of  all  his  fifty  sons,  chose  this 
very  Chandana  for  his  heir;  and  appointed 
him  yuwarajd"-  with  all  the  proper  ceremonies. 
So  when  they  were  completed,  that  overjoyed 
yuwardjd  ran,  fresh  from  the  installation,  to  the 
awarodha,^  to  tell  his  mother  of  his  triumph, 
and  increase  it  by  her  praises.  But  he  found 
her,  to  his  amazement,  all  in  tears,  and  as 
dismal  as  if  he  had  come  only  to  tell  her  of  his 
death.  So  he  said :  Mother,  what  is  the  reason 
of  such  misery,  on  such  a  day  of  exultation? 
Should  the  gloom  continue,  while  the  sun  is 
rising?     But  his  mother  looked  sourly  at  him, 

^  I.e.,  "little  king,"  Prince  of  Wales  or  Dauphin.  The  story 
is  a  piece  of  old  folklore,  and  one  version  may  be  found  in 
Somadewa. 

«  The  women's  apartments,  or  gynwceum. 


56  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

and  she  said:  Fool!  thy  rising  sun  is  setting : 
thou  art  out,  in  thy  quarters,  and  mistakest 
west  for  east,  and  soon  enough,  it  will  be  night 
for  thee.  And  Chandana  said :  I  do  not  under- 
stand thee.  Then  said  his  mother:  The  King 
thy  father  discovered,  long  ago,  the  elixir  of 
life,  and  even  now  he  has  been  living  for  fifteen 
hiindred  years.  And  this  is  a  jest  that  he 
plays,  now  and  then,  for  his  own  amusement, 
making  one  of  his  innumerable  sons  his  heir. 
For  all  his  heirs  die  before  him,  as  thou  wilt 
also,  never  even  reaching  so  much  as  the  very 
first  step  of  that  throne  that  lures  them  on 
and  hangs  always  just  before  them,  like  a 
bundle  of  hariali  grass  held  by  a  crafty  rider  on 
a  stick  before  the  nose  of  the  deluded  beast  of 
burden  that  carries  him  along.  Thine  is  only 
the  phantom  of  a  sun  that  will  presently  go 
down  and  disappear,  leaving  the  true  sun,  thy 
father,  still  in  the  very  blaze  of  noon, 
i  So  as  he  listened,  the  face  of  that  unhappy 
Chandana  fell.  And  he  went  away,  and  sank, 
just  as  his  mother  told  him,  into  the  night  of 
melancholy;  and  abandoning  his  royal  con- 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  57 

dition,  he  became  a  pilgrim,  and  died  after 
many  years  at  a  very  holy  bathing-place,  at 
last.  But  his  father  went  on  reigning,  making 
his  sons,  one  after  another,  yuwardjdj  exactly 
as  before. 


Ill 


So,  then,  when  Aranyani  ended,  Babhru  said 
with  a  smile:  Aranyani,  thy  story  is  fooHsh, 
and  altogether  wide  of  the  mark,  and  it  brings 
me  consolation  rather  than  reproof.  For  very 
certainly  thy  father  is  not  a  King,  and  has  not 
an  elixir,  and  will  not  live  for  ever.  And  when 
he  dies,  thou  wilt  no  longer  be  able  to  escape 
me,  for  we  shall  be  alone  together  in  the  wood. 

Then  said  Aranyani:  Babhru,  thy  confi- 
dence is  very  positive;  and  yet,  who  knows? 
Who  knows  what  m.ay  happen  in  the  future? 
Count  not,  O  Bruin,  with  such  ignorant 
prestimption  on  finding  me  for  ever  at  thy 
mercy  in  the  wood:  even  after  the  disaster, 
which  ought  not  to  have  occurred  to  thee,  even 
in  a  dream.  And  even  if  my  father  be,  as  thou 
sayest,  not  a  King,  I  say,  who  knows?  And 
all  at  once,  she  turned  half  round,  facing  him 

58 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  59 

directly  as  he  sat  beside  her,  with  malice  and 
provocation  in  her  eyes.  And  she  said: 
Babhru,  how  if  a  King's  son  were  sud- 
denly to  come  into  the  wood,  and  carry  me 
away,  as  many  stories  tell  of  others?  Did  not 
Dushmanta  discover  Shakimtala,  in  exactly 
such  a  wood  ?  But  thou  wilt  say,  she  was  more 
beautiful  than  I.  And  Babhru  said  gloomily: 
I  will  say  nothing  of  the  kind :  for  thou  art  far 
more  beautiful  than  Shakuntala  or  anybody 
else.  Then  said  Aranyani:  Thou  seest.  So 
nothing  is  wanted  to  make  my  case  tally  with 
her  own,  save  only  the  King's  son.  And  is  not 
the  world  full  to  the  very  brim  of  Kings  and 
their  sons?  And  Babhru  exclaimed  with  a 
groan:  Alas!  Aranyani,  thou  art  wounding 
my  very  heart,  and  this  is  the  very  thing  of 
which  I  am  afraid.  For  thy  only  preservation 
is,  that  this  is  a  wood,  into  which  nobody  ever 
comes.  And  all  day  long  I  tremble,  lest  in  very 
truth  some  stranger  should  come  into  the  wood 
and  see  thee,  and  spread  abroad  the  news  of 
thy  existence,  like  the  wind  which  carries 
everywhere  the  scent  of  a  lotus,  till  at  length 


6o  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

the  bees  come  to  plunder  it  of  the  honey  it 
contains.  Then,  indeed,  all  would  be  over,  for 
thee  as  for  me. 

And  Aranyani  said,  with  mischief:  O  Bruin, 
what  then?  Wilt  thou  deny  his  flower  to  the 
bee,  and  is  not  the  true  and  proper  place  of 
every  flower  either  the  wilderness,  its  origin, 
or  the  head  of  a  King,  its  destiny  and  end? 

And  once  again,  Babhru  uttered  a  groan, 
and  he  exclaimed:  Aranyani,  thy  words  are 
torture,  and  nothing  whatever  but  the  echo  of 
my  own  fears.  But  this  much  I  will  tell  thee, 
on  my  own  part:  that  the  King  who  shall  come 
to  carry  thee  away  will  do  well  to  beware.  For 
if  I  know  it,  and  find  him  in  the  wood,  he 
will  never  leave  it,  either  with  thee  or  without. 
And  he  looked  away,  with  ferocity  in  his 
eyes  and  in  his  teeth,  not  perceiving  that 
Aranyani  turned  paler  as  he  spoke.  And 
presently  she  said,  in  a  low  voice :  Surely  this 
love  must  be  an  evil  thing,  if  these  are  its 
results.  And  now  for  the  very  first  time,  I  see 
that  thou  art  well  named,  O  Bruin,  and  in 
very  truth  a  bear.     What !  wouldst*  thou  actu- 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  6i 

ally  slay  the  poor  King's  son  who  had  never 
done  thee  any  harm,  simply  for  seeking  me? 
And  Babhru  said  sternly :  What  harm  could 
he  do  me  greater  than  robbing  me  of  thee? 
But  let  him  only  come,  and  see! 

And  Aranyani  said  slowly :  O  thou  rude,  and 
fierce,  and  love-bewildered  Babhru,  dost  thou 
not  know,  that  only  he  is  virtuous  who  is  so 
far  from  revenging  an  injury  that  he  returns 
it,  on  the  contrary,  by  a  benefit,  as  Bhrigu  did; 
whose  story  would  be  a  lesson  to  thee,  of  which 
thou  standest  in  sore  need.  And  Babhru  said : 
I  care  not  a  straw,  either  for  Bhrigu  or  any- 
body else,  and  if,  in  this  matter,  he  could 
be  of  any  other  opinion  than  my  own,  I 
tell  thee  beforehand,  that  thy  Bhrigu  is  a 
fool. 

And  Aranyani  laid  her  hand  upon  his  arm, 
and  said  very  gently:  On  the  contrary,  he 
was  a  sage:  sit  still,  and  listen,  while  I  tell 
thee  all  about  him.  Long  ago  there  arose 
along  the  sages  a  dispute  as  to  which  was 
the  greatest  of  the  gods.  And  some  said  the 
Grandfather;  and  others,  the  Moony-crested; 


62  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

and  others,  the  husband  of  Shri.'  And  find- 
ing that  they  could  not  agree,  for  all  their 
disputing,  they  came  to  the  conclusion,  to 
settle  the  matter  by  experiment.  And  they 
chose  from  among  them  Bhrigu,  and  sent  him 
away,  to  put  the  gods  to  the  test.  So  Bhrigu 
went  accordingly,  and  after  a  while,  he  fell 
in  with  Brahma.  And  drawing  near  that  four- 
faced  god,  he  neither  saluted  him,  nor  per- 
formed a  pradakshina,^  but  went  up  without 
ceremony  and  accosted  him  with  rude  famili- 
arity. Thereupon  Brahma,  in  great  wrath  at 
his  insolence,  and  on  the  very  point  of  curs- 
ing that  deliberately  ill-mannered  sage,  was 
nevertheless  appeased  by  him,  by  means  of 
excuses  and  apologies.  And  so,  leaving  him 
appeased,  Bhrigu  proceeded  further  on,  and 
coming  to  Kailas,  enquired  for  Maheshwara. 
But  the  Moony-crested  god,  informed  of  his 
arrival,  sent  him  out  a  message  bidding  him 
go  away  again,  and  saying:  I  have  no  leisure, 

V  V 

^  I.e.,  Brahma,  Shiwa,  and  Wishnu  respectively. 
'By    moving    round    him,    keeping    him    on    the    right:    an 
established  form  of  adoration. 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  63 

since  I  am  at  this  very  moment  busy  playing 
with  my  other  half,  the  Daughter  of  the  Snow. 
And  going  away  accordingly,  Bhrigu  came 
upon  the  Lord  Wishnu,  lying  fast  asleep. 
And  instantly  he  awoke  him,  by  giving  him  a 
kick  upon  the  breast,  so  hard  that  he  injured 
his  own  foot .  Then  that  husband  of  Shri ,  rising 
up  politely,  said  to  him  with  concern  and  com- 
passion in  his  voice:  O  Bhrigu,  surely  thou  hast 
hurt  thy  own  foot :  for  the  kick  was  very  severe. 
And  as  a  rule,  a  blow  hurts  the  giver  more  than 
the  receiver.  And  sitting  down  beside  him, 
that  compassionate  diety  took  the  foot  upon  his 
lap,  and  began  very  gently  to  shampoo  it,  con- 
tinuing till  all  the  pain  was  gone.  Then  said 
Bhrigu:  What  god  is  greater  than  this  god? 
For  who  but  a  god,  and  the  very  highest,  would 
requite  an  unprovoked  assault  by  tenderness, 
and  pity,  and  oblivion  of  his  own  wrong? 
Surely  this  is  the  badge  of  Deity  in  its  very  es- 
sence, that,  like  sky-crystal,  is  pure,  and  abso- 
lutely transparent,  and  utterly  without  a  flaw?  ^ 

^  This  curious  and  very  beautiful  legend  may  be  found  In  the 
Purdnas. 


IV 


And  Babhru  listened  in  silence,  and  when 

she  ended,  he  said  slowly:  Aranyanl,  dost 
thou  then  imagine,  that  the  deity,  so  tol- 
erant of  injury  to  himself,  would  have  been 
equally  long-suffering  and  indifferent  had 
Bhrigu  or  any  other,  fool  or  sage,  attempted 
to  rob  him  of  Shri,  and  deprive  him  of  his 
wife? 

And  Aranyani  laughed  and  said:  But  I  am 
not  thy  wife,  O  Babhru,  yet.  Thou  art  antici- 
pating. And  Babhru  said:  Alas!  no.  But  at 
least,  if  thou  art  not  yet  my  wife,  thou  art 
not  any  other  man's:  nor,  if  I  can  prevent  it, 
shalt  ever  be.  And  she  said:  Babhru,  thou 
art  utterly  intolerable,  and  a  tyrant:  and 
at  this  rate,  I  shall  without  a  doubt  die  un- 
married, if  all  the  sons  of  Kings  who  may  come 

to  seek  me  in  the  wood  are  to  be  slain  by  thee. 

64 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  65 

And  much  I  fear,  that  the  wood  will  come  to 
rival  even  Kurukshetra,  ^  with  all  its  heroes  ly- 
ing dead  in  heaps  except  thyself. 

And  Babhru  said  without  a  smile:  Aran- 
yani,  thou  art  laughing  at  a  thing  which, 
for  all  that,  is  very  solemn,  and  very  simple: 
for  very  sure  it  is,  that  whoever  would  de- 
prive me  of  thyself  must  either  slay  me  first, 
or  die  himself.  And  she  said:  Poor  Bruin, 
this  alone  is  very  sure,  that  love  must  be 
a  very  demon,  since  he  has  filled  thee  with 
such  a  raging  thirst  for  the  slaughter  of 
the  sons  of  Kings.  But  come  now,  I  will  tell 
thee  a  better  way:  and  that  is,  to  kill  me: 
for  so  wilt  thou  effectually  circumvent  and 
cheat  all  these  lovesick  and  imaginary  Kings, 
at  a  single  blow,  if,  as  it  seems,  I  am  to  be  a 
cause  of  strife  and  bloodshed  as  long  as  I  am 
alive. 

And  he  looked  at  her  fixedly,  and  said: 
Jest  not  with  my  devotion,  for  it  may  be,  thou 
art   nearer  the  truth   than  thou  imaginest. 

^  The  scene  of  the  great  battle  in  the  Mahdbhdrata,  where  all 
the  heroes  killed  each  other. 


66  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

Will  any  King  whatever  love  thee  half  as  well 
as  I  do?  Yet  thou  wilt  not  love  me,  and  as  I 
think,  it  is  because  I  am  not  on  the  level  of  thy 
thoughts,  and  not  a  King. '  Then  she  laughed, 
and  exclaimed:  Alas!  poor  Bruin,  thou  art 
mad:  for  all  these  Kings  are  only  dreams,  yet 
art  thou  as  savage  as  if  they  were  actually  be- 
fore thee  in  a  row.  And  he  said:  Aye!  only 
dreams:  and  yet  the  dreams  are  earnest,  and 
are  thine.  Kings  are  the  very  matter  of  thy 
dreams.  Is  not  this  the  subject  of  thy  rever- 
ies as  thou  gazest  at  the  sand?  Ha!  am  I 
right?  Dost  thou  never  long  for  some  King's 
son  to  come  and  fill  thy  life  with  joy,  and 
deliver  thee  from  the  monotony  of  this  wood, 
and  thy  father,  and  myself?  Am  I  not  below 
thee,  in  thy  estimation?  Then  for  what  canst 
thou  long,  but  for  thy  peer? 

And  he  looked  keenly  at  Aranyani,  and  as 
her  eyes  met  his,  she  wavered,  a  very  little,  and 

^  It  should  be  remembered  by  the  English  reader  that  "sons 
of  Kings"  are  more  numerous  in  India  than  in  the  West.  All 
Rajpoots  are  sons  of  Kings:  and  Aranydnl  herself  a  Rajpootni. 
To  marry  a  King's  son  would  be  for  her,  not  merely  a  desire, 
but  a  duty:  an  affair  of  caste.  All  this  flavour  evaporates  in  a 
translation. 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  67 

looked  away,  and  said:  Alas!  poor  Babhru,  thy 
love  is  jealousy,  which  makes  thee  so  sharp- 
sighted  that  thou  seest  things  that  are  not 
there.  So  trouble  not  thy  foolish  head  about 
anything  so  slight  and  insignificant  as  the 
subject  of  my  dreams,  otherwise  thou  wilt  place 
thyself  on  the  level  of  the  zanies  of  Chincholi. 
And  he  said:  Thou  speakest  the  very  truth: 
I  am  the  very  type  of  a  fool,  striving  to  reach 
what  is  above  him  and  beyond  his  reach, 
even  when  he  stands  on  tiptoe:  and  that  is, 
the  level  of  thy  thoughts.  And  Aranyani 
said:  See  now,  I  said  well,  thou  art  the  very 
fellow  of  the  sages  of  Chincholi:  a  city,  into 
which  on  a  day  there  came  a  certain  sanc- 
timonious ascetic,  called  Pinga,  from  the  colour 
of  his  hair.  And  arriving  at  the  square  before 
the  palace  of  the  King,  he  sat  down  in  its 
middle,  and  spreading  out  his  left  hand  open 
before  him,  he  looked  intently  at  its  palm. 
And  so  he  continued,  wrapt  in  the  contempla- 
tion of  his  hand,  paying  absolutely  no  regard 
to  anything  around  him,  till  night.  And  this 
he  did  every  day,  all  day  long,  till  at  length  he 


68  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

became  the  very  target  of  the  curiosity  of 
the  people  of  the  town,  who  crowded  round 
him  in  a  throng,  disputing  as  to  the  mean- 
ing of  his  singular  behaviour,  and  all  main- 
taining opposite  opinions.  And  one  said: 
This  ascetic  is  undoubtedly  pondering  on 
the  Panchatantra. '  And  another:  Beyond 
a  doubt,  the  holy  man  is  meditating  on 
Death.  And  yet  another:  Is  not  this  an 
ascetic?  And  of  what  should  he  meditate 
but  the  five  fires?  But  a  pundit  passing 
by,  said:  His  meditation  can  be  of  nothing 
but  the  syllogism  and  its  members.  There- 
upon another  said:  Is  it  not  the  left  hand?* 
Then  his  thoughts  are  of  the  Shakti.  And  a 
wag  among  them  said :  Aye !  For  of  what  do 
all  these  holy  men  perpetually  think,  but  of 
the  five  arrows  of  the  God  of  Love?  And  a 
Brahman  said:  Thou  art  altogether  out  in  thy 
conjecture,  for  he  meditates  on  nothing  but  the 
sheaths  of  the  soul.     And  a  Gawali  shouted: 

^  The  point  of  these  interpretations  depends  on  the  number 
five,  which  enters  into  all  of  them. 

^  There  is  a  play  here  on  wdmd,  which  means  the  left  hand  and 
a  beautiful  woman. 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  69 

The  sage  is  considering  devoutly  the  parts  of 
the  cow.  For  what  is  holier  than  a  cow? 
And  there  arose  such  an  uproar  in  the  city  that 
the  citizens  all  came  to  blows,  dividing  into 
factions  around  him,  while  all  the  time  he  sat 
peacefully  just  as  if  nobody  was  there,  gazing 
at  his  hand.  And  finally  the  King  sent  officers 
to  say  to  him :  Depart  quickly  from  the  city, 
for  thy  presence  is  a  cause  of  sedition.  There- 
upon Pinga  said:  Interrupt  my  meditation, 
and  I  will  curse  the  city,  so  as  to  deprive  it 
of  both  sun  and  rain.  So  fearing  his  curse, 
the  King  had  recourse  to  diplomacy.  And 
he  sent  his  purohita  at  night,  who  secretly  in- 
duced that  obstinate  ascetic  to  go  away,  of  his 
own  accord,  by  giving  him  a  lakh.  And  as 
he  slowly  went  out  of  the  city,  his  chela  said 
to  him  aside:  Master,  what  was  the  subject 
of  thy  meditation,  for  I  am  curious  to  know? 
Then  that  crafty  ascetic  suddenly  laughed  like 
a  hyaena.  And  he  said:  I  meditated  about 
absolutely  nothing  but  my  own  hand.  And 
now,  this  is  a  lesson  to  thee.  For  such  is  the 
nature  of  fools,  who  comprehend  least  of  all 


70  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

what  is  absolutely  simple,  and  see  last  of  all 
what  is  lying  before  their  nose.  And  whoever 
knows  this  possesses  treasure  inexhaustible, 
and  is  master  of  the  world. 


And  Babhru  watched  her  intently,  as  she 
spoke,  and  when  she  ended,  he  said  suddenly 
and  abruptly:  Aranyani,  thou  art  deceiving 
me.  And  she  said:  How,  O  Babhru?  And  he 
said :  Thou  art  this  morning  totally  unlike  thy- 
self, for  thy  customary  melancholy  is  absent, 
and  thou  art  strange,  and  elated,  and  agitated, 
and  as  it  seems  to  me,  thou  art  telling  me  idle 
stories,  like  one  that  listens  all  the  while  to 
something  else,  as  it  were  in  a  hurry,  merely  to 
throw  me  off  the  scent,  and  hide  from  me  a 
secret,  and  amuse  me  like  a  child.  And  some- 
how or  other,  I  feel  as  if  there  were  a  wall  be- 
tween us  this  morning,  which  was  never  there 
before.  Aye!  I  am  sure,  I  know  not  how, 
thou  art  playing  as  it  were  a  part,  to  cast  a 
mist  before  my  eyes,  and  hide  from  me  some 

agitation  in  thy  soul. 

71 


^2  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

And  Aranyani  laughed,  and  blushed,  and 
frowned,  and  finally  she  said:  Babhru,  thy 
love  is  a  disease,  which  fills  thy  head  with 
nightmare,  and  thy  eyes  with  phantoms  born 
of  suspicion  in  thy  soul.  And  he  said:  Alas! 
thy  own  behaviour  gives  the  lie  to  thee.  Thou 
art  not  like  thy  self,  and  I  am  right.  And 
now,  then,  I  will  tell  thee,  in  retiun  for  thy 
stories,  one  myself;  but  unlike  them,  mine 
shall  be  very  sad,  and  very  true. 

And  Aranyani  turned,  and  looked  at  him 
with  anxiety  in  her  eyes:  and  she  said:  O 
Babhru,  a  story,  and  from  thee!  what  is  it? 
And  he  said:  Dost  thou  remember,  a  little 
while  ago,  when  we  wandered,  the  last  time 
I  saw  thee,  in  the  wood?  And  she  said:  Yes. 
Then  he  said :  Dost  thou  recollect,  how  all  at 
once  I  stopped  thee,  and  turned  back  with 
thee,  and  left  thee  so  abruptly?  And  shall 
I  tell  thee  why?  And  Aranyani  gazed  at 
him,  turning  a  little  paler,  without  speaking. 
Then  he  said:  Know,  that  as  we  went,  I 
looked,  and  suddenly  I  saw  before  me  in  the 
bushes,  what  was  unseen  by  thee,  the  face  of 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  73 

a  man.  And  as  I  saw  it,  I  shuddered,  for 
his  eyes  were  fixed  on  thee  with  astonish- 
ment, and  evil  admiration.  And  instantly  I 
turned,  and  took  thee  home,  and  left  thee,  and 
hurried  back  to  find  him:  but  he  was  gone. 
I  hunted  everywhere,  but  he  was  gone.  And 
ever  since,  I  cannot  even  sleep,  for  thinking  of 
this  man,  and  of  his  eyes,  which  haunt  me,  as 
they  gloated  on  thee,  like  a  terror,  bidding  me 
beware,  and  saying  as  it  were:  Ha!  Ha!  thy 
treasure  is  discovered.  And  I  resemble  one, 
whose  buried  hoard  of  gold  has  been  seen  by 
other  eyes;  and  hardly  do  I  dare  to  be  away 
from  thee,  not  as  before,  merely  for  love  of 
thee,  but  for  fear,  lest,  on  returning,  I  should 
find  my  treasiu-e  gone. 

And  all  at  once,  he  burst  into  a  sob;  and 
he  rose,  and  took  a  step  or  two  away  from 
her.  And  Aranyani  rose  also,  and  she  said 
with  agitation:  O  Babhru,  what  was  he  like, 
this  man?  Was  he  tall  and  powerful,  like 
thee?  And  Babhru  said:  Nay,  he  was  a 
little  ugly  man,  with  weasel  eyes.  And  Aran- 
yani laughed,  as  if  with  relief.     And  she  ex- 


74  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

claimed:  O  Babhru,  what  is  this?  Is  this  a 
man  of  whom  to  be  afraid?  What!  shall  I 
fall  a  victim  to  this  little  man  with  weasel 
eyes,  who  hides  in  bushes?  Be  under  no 
concern,  for  so  much  I  will  tell  thee,  that  not 
even  a  hundred  such  pigmies  shall  ever  carry 
me  away. 

And  Babhru  said  sadly:  Alas!  Aranyani, 
thou  dost  not  understand :  and  like  the  flower 
in  thy  hair,  thou  art  utterly  ignorant  of  thy 
own  attraction.  And  exactly  such  a  man  as 
this,  whom  thou  despisest,  is  the  most  danger- 
ous of  all.  Dost  thou  think,  if  once  through 
his  agency  the  world  should  suddenly  become 
aware  of  what  this  wood  contains,  it  would 
long  remain  un visited  by  others?  It  was  not 
the  face  of  the  intruder  that  I  feared,  but  his 
tongue,  which,  could  I  but  have  caught  him, 
I  would  have  cut  out  of  his  throat,  to  keep 
it  from  betraying  thy  existence  to  the  world 
outside. 

And  as  he  looked  towards  her,  with  tears  in 
his  eyes,  all  at  once  Aranyani  changed  colour, 
turning  suddenly  paler,  as  if  her  heart,  appalled 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  75 

by  the  apparition  of  some  menace  in  his  words, 
had  stmimoned  to  its  assistance  all  the  blood 
in  her  face.  And  after  a  while  she  said :  Babhru, 
thou  art  ill,  and  thy  unfortunate  affection  not 
only  makes  thee  overestimate  my  value,  but 
even  leads  thee  to  alarm  thyself  and  me, 
by  creating  imaginary  fears.  And  moreover, 
come  what  may,  the  mischief,  if  any  mischief 
is,  is  done,  and  the  tongue  that  is  thy  bugbear 
is  safe  and  at  a  distance  in  its  owner's  head, 
talking,  very  probably,  of  an3rthing  but  me. 
But  now,  while  we  ourselves  are  talking,  time 
has  fled,  and  it  is  nearly  noon;  for  the  shadows 
are  at  shortest;  and  now,  I  dare  not  let  thee 
stay  here  any  longer;  as,  indeed,  I  was  to  blame 
in  allowing  thee  to  stay  at  all ;  and  better  had 
it  been  for  both  of  us,  it  may  be,  hadst  thou 
never  come.  And  should  my  father  suddenly 
return,  and  find  thee,  it  would  be  worse.  Why 
need  I  tell  thee  what  thou  knowest  very  well? 
And  what  good  can  come  to  thee,  by  longing 
for  what  is  forbidden?  Thou  dost  only  add 
fuel  to  the  flame  of  thy  fever,  which  I,  did  I  do 
my  duty,  ought  rather  to  quench,  by  pouring 


76  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

over  it  the  cold  water  of  distance  and  separa- 
tion. But  my  compassion  for  thee  fights  with 
my  obedience  to  my  father,  for  I  am  only  a 
woman  after  all,  and  very  weak;  and  it  may 
be,  I  love  thee  just  a  very  little.  So  be  con- 
tent with  all  that  I  can  give  thee,  and  do  not 
come  again,  but  recover  from  thy  fears,  and 
forget  me.  I  cannot  be  thy  wife,  but  I  wish 
thee  well.  And  now  good-bye,  and  go  away. 
So  as  she  stood,  dismissing  him,  Babhru 
turned  without  a  word,  and  went  away  into  the 
wood,  very  slowly,  while  she  watched  him  go. 
And  she  put  both  her  hands  behind  her  head, 
and  stood  looking  after  him,  absolutely  still. 
And  as  fate  would  have  it,  he  turned  round, 
just  before  he  passed  out  of  sight,  and  looked 
back,  and  saw  her  standing,  gazing  after  him 
with  a  smile,  with  every  outline  of  her  round 
and  slender  woman's  form  standing  out  sharp 
as  the  moon's  rim,  as  if  on  purpose  to  intoxi- 
cate his  eye,  against  the  background  of  the 
distant  sand,  like  a  threefold  incarnation  of 
his  inaccessible  desire,  and  his  disappearing 
happiness,  and  his  irrevocable  farewell,  in  a 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  77 

feminine  shape.  And  all  at  once  he  came  back 
to  her  with  hurried  steps.  And  he  reached  her, 
and  fell  down  before  her,  and  seized  a  corner 
of  her  red  garment  that  was  loose,  and  kissed 
it.  And  then  he  started  up.  And  he  said,  in 
a  voice  that  shook,  with  tears  stealing  from 
his  eyes:  Well  I  understand  that  I  am  looking 
at  thee  for  the  very  last  time. 

And  then  he  turned,  and  went  away  very 
quickly,  without  looking  round:  while  she 
stood  in  agitation,  looking  after  him,  till  he 
disappeared  among  the  trees. 


II 

A  GLAMOUR  OF  NOON 


79 


II 

A  GLAMOUR  OF  NOON 


So  she  stood,  a  long  while,  gazing  in  the 
direction  of  his  departure,  touched  by  his 
emotion,  into  an  emotion  that  was  more  than 
half  compassion,  of  her  own,  and  sorry,  yet 
fearing  above  all  things  to  see  him  return.  And 
then  at  last,  as  if  satisfied  that  he  was  actually 
gone,  she  turned  away.  And  she  murmured  to 
herself:  Alas!  poor  Babhru,  hadst  thou  but 
known  how  near  thy  fear  came  to  the  very 
truth,  I  doubt  whether  I  could  ever  have  got 
thee  to  go  away  at  all.  And  even  as  it  is,  it  is 
a  wonder  that  he  has  not  actually  discovered 
what  his  jealousy  prompted  him  to  guess:  and 
all  the  while  I  trembled,  feeling  a  very  culprit, 

6  8i 


82  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

so  accurately  did  he  probe  my  soul,  and  see  into 
my  heart.  And  wonderful  exceedingly  is  the 
sagacity  of  love,  that  discerns,  from  the  very 
faintest  indications,  what  would  escape  all 
other  eyes !  And  yet,  for  all  his  acuteness,  how 
little  did  he  dream  that  I  knew,  by  experience, 
what  love  is,  better,  far  better,  than  himself. 
He  knew  that  I  deceived  him,  but  did  not  know 
how  far.  And  after  all,  what  shadow  of  a 
right  has  he  to  claim  my  affection  for  himself? 
But  now  he  has  had  his  turn  and  all  that  I 
could  give  him:  and  now,  then,  it  is  my  turn, 
and  it  is  time,  and  it  is  noon. 

And  then,  all  at  once,  Babhru,  and  every- 
thing concerning  him,  vanished  clean  out  of  her 
mind.  And  strange !  she  changed,  as  if  by  magic, 
in  an  instant,  into  another  woman.  For  as  she 
stood,  unconsciously  she  smiled,  and  the  smile 
ran,  as  it  were,  over  her  whole  body  with  a  sud- 
den wave  of  delicious  agitation,  and  from  a 
woman  that  she  was,  lording  it,  as  if  with  a  sense 
of  superiority,  she  turned  into  a  child,  trembling 
all  over  with  the  excitement  of  anticipation. 
And  she  looked  very  carefully  all  round  her,  as 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  83 

if  to  make  sure  of  being  unobserved ;  and  all  at 
once,  she  ran  very  quickly  away  into  the  wood, 
turning  her  back  on  Babhru,  down  the  hill 
towards  the  sand.  And  coming  at  length  to  a 
little  clump  of  trees,  she  stopped  abruptly,  and 
clapped  her  hands.  And  at  that  very  instant, 
as  if  he  had  been  waiting  for  the  signal,  Atirupa 
issued  from  the  trees.  And  Aranyani  ran  to- 
wards him,  breathless,  half  with  running,  and 
half  with  the  agitation  of  the  joy  of  reunion, 
and  threw  herself  into  his  arms,  with  a  cry. 

And  then,  for  a  while,  that  pair  of  lovers 
did  nothing  but  kiss  each  other  all  over,  with 
kisses  that  followed  one  another  like  raindrops 
in  a  storm.  And  after  a  while,  he  said:  Dear 
Aranyani,  thou  art  very  late,  and  like  the  little 
rogue  thou  art,  hast  kept  me  waiting,  as  I  think 
on  purpose,  to  make  thy  value  greater,  and  in- 
crease my  thirst,  till  I  had  almost  determined, 
in  despair,  to  go  away.  And  Aranyani  said  play- 
fully :  What !  couldst  thou  not  wait  for  me  a  little 
while,  and  am  I  not  worth  waiting  for  at  all  ? 
And  he  kissed  her  very  carefully  on  both  eyes, 
and  he  said:  Indeed  thou  art.     Then  she  said 


84  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

softly :  And  dost  thou  then  imagine  that  delay 
is  any  easier  to  me  than  to  thyself?  Know, 
that  I  had  difficulty,  in  coming  even  when  I 
did.  For  I  had  first  to  get  rid  of  someone  else, 
in  order  to  come  at  all.  And  Atirupa  said: 
Thy  old  lover,  of  whom  thou  hast  told  me? 
Then  she  said :  Thou  sayest  well,  my  old  lover, 
who  loves  me,  as  I  think,  far  better  than  thou 
dost,  and  almost  as  much  as  I  love  thee.  But 
alas  for  him!  since  I  love  him  not  again;  and 
well  will  it  be  for  me  if  in  thy  case  also  love  is 
not  wholly  on  one  side.  Say,  dost  thou  love 
me,  even  half  as  much  as  I  love  thee?  And 
Atirupa  said,  with  a  smile:  Nay,  if  I  must 
believe  thee,  it  is  impossible. 

And  she  gazed  at  him  with  insatiable  eyes, 
and  she  said  with  a  sigh :  Yes,  it  is  impossible. 
And  yet,  strange !  it  is  not  yet  a  week  since  I 
came  upon  thee  in  the  wood  for  the  very  first 
time,  thinking,  as  I  saw  thee,  that  the  very  God 
of  Love  had,  some  how  or  other,  dropped  out  of 
heaven,  and  wandering  about  on  earth,  had 
lost  his  way  in  our  wood,  only  for  my  destruc- 
tion; to  consimie  me,  like  lightning  irresistible. 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  85 

only  by  a  look:  and  turn  me  suddenly  from 
free  into  a  slave,  the  property  of  another,  who 
is  master  of  her  body  and  her  soul.  And  yet, 
only  this  very  morning  did  I  learn  how  nearly 
I  had  lost  thee:  since  thy  servant  that  saw  me 
in  the  wood,  and  was  the  cause  of  thy  coming, 
came  within  an  ace  of  perishing  himself,  before 
he  ever  got  away  to  tell.  And  Atirupa  said: 
How?  And  Aranyani  told  him.  And  then 
she  said:  And  now  I  fear  for  thee  also:  for 
should  Babhru  chance  to  see  thee,  his  reason 
will  desert  him.  And  I  tremble  to  think  of 
thy  encounter  with  such  a  gaint  as  is  he.  And 
yet  I  know  not  what  to  do.  For  he  will  surely 
come  across  thee,  sooner  or  later,  as  indeed  it  is 
marvellous  that  he  has  not  done  already:  since 
thou  comest  daily  to  me  in  the  wood. 

And  Atirupa  laughed,  and  he  said:  Fear 
nothing,  O  thou  with  the  eyes  of  a  gazelle:  for 
it  may  be  he  himself  that  would  suffer  most  by 
our  meeting.  Then  said  Aranyani:  It  is  ex- 
actly this  I  fear.  For  I  would  not  have  thee 
harm  him,  even  though  my  fear  is  all  for  thee. 
And  Atirupa  said:  There  is  a  very  easy  way 


86  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

to  solve  this  difficulty  and  deprive  thee  of 
all  cause  of  fear,  which  has  not  yet  occurred 
to  thee.  And  Aranyani  said:  What  is  that? 
And  Atirupa  said:  It  is  only  in  this  wood  that 
we  could  ever  meet  each  other.  But  what  if 
thou  shouldst  come  away  with  me,  O  thou  de- 
licious little  slave,  leaving  the  wood  behind 
thee,  to  a  place  he  cannot  reach? 


n 


And  then,  Aranyanl  started,  and  looked  at 
him  with  eyes  that  were  filled  with  timidity 
and  dismay,  as  if  she  hardly  understood. 
And  after  a  while,  she  said:  What!  come 
away  with  thee!  it  is  impossible.  And  she 
gazed  at  him  in  terror,  while  Atirupa  looked 
at  her  steadily,  with  caressing  impenetrable 
eyes.  And  he  murmured  to  himself:  Now, 
then,  I  have  startled  my  beautiful  and  timid 
fawn,  but  the  seed  is  for  all  that  sown  in  her 
beating  heart.  And  now,  then,  we  shall  see, 
whether  I  can  get  her,  by  persuasion  and 
caresses  and  cajolery,  to  come  away  of_  her 
own  accord;  or  whether,  as  I  do  not  wish,  I 
shall  have  to  carry  her  off  by  force.  For  she 
will  be  far  sweeter  if  she  yields  herself,  even 
though  reluctant,  than  if  I  have  to  make  her 
come  away,  whether  she  will  or  no.     And 

87 


88  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

presently  he  said  gently :  Dear  Aranyani,  dost 
thou  imagine  that  either  I  can  live  without  thee 
or  remain  for  ever  in  thy  wood?  For  even  as 
it  is,  I  have  been  living  in  the  wood,  on  thy 
account,  for  many  days,  at  a  distance  from  my 
capital,  neglecting  all  my  state  affairs;  and 
long  ago  my  ministers  must  have  wondered 
what  can  have  become  of  me.  So  of  two 
things,  one  is  absolutely  necessary:  and  either 
thou  must  come  away,  or  we  must  part. 

And  Aranyani  looked  at  him  steadily,  turn- 
ing very  pale.  And  she  murmured  in  be- 
wilderment :  Part !  Thou  and  I !  And  Atirupa 
said:  Dear,  thouseest,  the  very  notion  makes 
thee  pale.  Then  what  will  it  be  to  part,  in 
reality?  Couldst  thou  endure  to  live  with- 
out me?  Or  can  I  live  for  ever  in  the  wood? 
Then  what  remains  but  this  alone,  to  leave 
the  wood  thyself,  and  come  with  me,  since 
there  is  absolutely  no  other  way. 

And  Aranyani  drew  herself  away,  out  of  his 
arms;  and  she  stood,  looking  down  upon  the 
ground,  silent,  and  very  pale:  while  Atirupa 
watched  her,  standing  still,  with  eyes  that 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  89 

never  left  her  for  an  instant.  And  after  a 
while,  he  said  again:  Dear  Aranyani,  couldst 
thou  actually  think  it  could  continue  thus  for 
ever,  or  that  I  could  remain  for  ever,  as  I  am 
doing  now,  camping  in  the  wood,  and  coming 
every  day  to  see  thee? 

And  Aranyani  sighed,  and  she  said  very 
slowly,  still  looking  at  the  ground :  I  know  not, 
for  I  have  thought  of  absolutely  nothing,  since 
I  saw  thee,  but  thyself;  and  that  was  enough 
for  me,  and  more;  since  my  soul  was  so  full 
that  it  had  room  for  nothing  else.  And  all  the 
past  had  vanished,  and  the  future  did  not 
matter,  swallowed  up  in  the  present  which  was 
ecstasy,  and  intoxication,  and  thou.  How 
could  I  think  of  anything  at  all?  And  now 
thou  hast  suddenly  awaked  me  from  a  dream, 
which  in  my  folly  I  had  imagined  would  never 
have  an  end,  but  last  for  ever.  And  lo!  it 
is  gone,  and  all  is  over,  and  finished,  almost 
before  it  has  begun. 

And  Atirupa  said  in  a  whisper:  Say  rather, 
O  Aranyani,  that  the  dream  is  only  just 
beginning. 


90  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

And  she  answered  angrily :  Dost  thou  think 
it  then  so  easy  for  a  flower  to  consent  to  be 
torn  up  by  the  roots,  and  carried  from  its  home 
no  matter  where?  For  like  a  flower  I  am 
rooted  in  this  wood,  where  I  have  lived  and 
grown  since  the  beginning,  with  my  father  and 
the  trees,  and  the  creepers,  and  the  deer.  And 
now  thou  hast  placed  thyself,  with  a  sudden 
flash  of  lightning,  in  opposition  to  it  all;  and 
thou  wouldst  make  me  choose,  threatening  to 
go  away  and  leave  me,  unless  I  sacrifice  it  all, 
to  go  into  the  darkness,  I  know  not  where 
with  thee.  Dost  thou  think  the  choice  is 
easy  which  will  utterly  destroy  me,  which- 
ever way  it  falls?  Thou  art  the  cause  of  all, 
and  resemblest  a  knife,  that  bids  me  to  consent 
and  rejoice,  while  it  cuts  my  heart  in  two, 
possessing  absolutely  no  heart  whatever  of 
its  own. 

And  Atirupa  said  gently:  Alas!  Aranyani, 
thou  art  utterly  unjust,  and  this  was  my  very 
fear,  that  when  I  offered  thee  to  choose  be- 
tween the  wood,  which  is  thy  past,  and  my- 
self, who  am  thy  future,  I   should  seem  to 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  91 

thee  utterly  of  no  account,  and  light  in  the 
balance,  weighed  against  what  I  asked  thee 
to  resign.  I  say,  thou  blamest  me  unjustly, 
when  I  am  absolutely  blameless,  unless  in- 
deed it  be  a  fault  to  love  thee,  for  which  not  I, 
but  thyself,  or  rather  the  Creator  is  to  blame, 
for  making  thee  exactly  what  thou  art.  Who 
can  blame  the  butter  for  melting  in  the  flame, 
or  make  it  a  crime  in  the  ocean,  for  rising 
in  tumult  and  agitation  at  the  sight  of  the 
tender  digit  of  the  moon?  Is  it  my  fault,  if 
I  must  go  away,  since  after  all  my  kingdom 
is  in  need  of  me,  and  even  as  it  is  I  have  re- 
mained here  too  long,  and  all  on  thy  account  ? 
And  what  can  I  do  but  ask  thee  to  come  with 
me,  since  unless  we  are  to  part,  there  is  ab- 
solutely nothing  else  to  do?  And  does  not 
every  maiden  do  the  same?  Did  not  Shakun- 
tala  abandon  her  home  and  her  relations  in 
the  forest,  to  follow  King  Dushmanta?  And 
did  not  even  the  Daughter  of  the  Snow 
abandon,  not  only  her  father,  but  even  her 
own  body,  for  the  sake  of  the  Moony-crested 
God?    And  art  thou  fearful,  O  thou  intoxi- 


92  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

eating  child,  to  go  into  the  dark?  But  what 
will  darkness  matter?  nay,  will  not  the  dark 
itself  beeome  neetar,  provided  I  am  there? 
Or  rather,  will  not  the  darkness  be  still 
darker,  and  gloomier,  and  blacker,  if  I  go 
away  and  leave  thee  by  thyself? 


Ill 


And  Aranyanl  stood  for  a  moment,  when 
he  ended ;  and  then  all  at  once  she  sank  down 
upon  the  ground,  and  hid  her  face  in  her  two 
hands,  and  began  to  sob.  And  after  a  while 
she  said  in  agitation:  What  hast  thou  done 
to  me?  For  till  I  saw  thee,  I  was  happy; 
and  now  I  am  torn  by  thee  utterly  in  two. 
For  I  cannot  bear  to  part  either  with  thee,  or 
with  my  father  and  my  home.  And  now  I 
cotild  wish  never  to  have  seen  thee,  and  well 
had  it  been  if  thy  servant  never  had  set  eyes 
on  me,  to  tell  thee,  and  bring  thee  to  the  wood. 
Why  hast  thou  come  hither  to  destroy  me? 
For  all  has  come  about  exactly  as  Babhru 
said  and  feared,  when  he  foretold  that  thy 
coming  would  be  my  utter  ruin. 

And  Atirupa  listened,  and  he  murmured  to 
himself:    She  has  fallen  into  the   snare,   by 

93 


94  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

avowing  her  vacillation,  and  allowing  herself 
to  debate,  instead  of  repudiating  my  proposal: 
and  now  it  will  be  my  own  fault  if  I  cannot 
ttim  the  scale  in  my  own  favour,  by  playing  on 
her  agitated  heart.  And  he  said  coldly:  Ha! 
then,  as  I  thought,  it  is  Babhru  who  causes 
all  the  trouble;  and  he  it  is  whom  thou  art 
so  unwilling  to  resign. 

And  instantly  Aranyani  started  up,  and 
exclaimed  with  vehemence  and  indignation: 
What !  dost  thou  taunt  me,  dost  thou  actually 
dare  to  taunt  me,  with  Babhru,  whom  I  have 
sacrificed  without  a  thought  to  thee?  Alas! 
poor  Babhru.  Little  does  he  resemble  thee, 
for  so  far  from  taking  me  away,  he  would  live 
at  my  bidding  even  in  a  desert,  and  give  up  a 
hundred  kingdoms,  if  he  had  them,  for  my 
sake.  And  Atirupa  said:  Then  be  it  as  thou 
wilt,  for  I  will  not  be  his  rival.  Go  with  him 
to  thy  desert,  and  I  will  go  to  mine. 

And  he  turned,  as  if  to  go  away  in  anger. 
But  as  he  went,  Aranyani  sprang  towards 
him  with  a  shriek.  And  she  seized  him  by 
the  arm,  and  shook  it  passionately,  exclaim- 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  95 

ing:  Away  with  Babhrti!  O  forgive  me,  for 
I  am  mad,  and  I  know  not  what  I  say  or  do. 
What  is  Babhru  in  comparison  with  thee? 
Only  be  not  angry,  and  do  not  go;  do  not 
leave  me,  for  thy  going  is  my  death.  And 
she  clutched  him,  and  caught  him  by  the 
neck,  and  drawing  his  face  violently  down  to 
her,  she  began  to  kiss  him  without  ceasing, 
mingling  the  rain  of  her  kisses  with  the  shower 
of  her  tears.  And  after  a  while,  she  drew 
back,  and  holding  his  neck  very  tightly  with 
her  left  arm,  she  gazed  intently  at  his  face, 
as  if  in  meditation,  drawing  her  finger  slowly 
all  around  it,  and  over  each  eyebrow,  and 
round  and  round  his  mouth,  over  and  over 
again.  And  then  all  at  once  she  threw  her 
right  arm  also  round  his  neck,  and  hid  her 
face  upon  his  breast,  exclaiming,  while  her 
own  breast  beat  like  a  wave  upon  his  heart: 
Either  thou  never  shouldst  have  come,  or 
shouldst  never  go  away. 

And  Atirupa  stood  quietly,  supporting  her 
in  his  arms,  and  allowing  her  to  do  with 
him  exactly  as  she  pleased.     And  finally,  he 


96  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

stroked  her  hair  gently  with  his  hand,  and 
murmured  to  himself:  Now  very  soon,  I 
think,  she  will  consent,  as  it  were  without  con- 
senting, to  come  away,  after  a  little  coaxing. 
And  he  said  aloud:  Dear  Aranyani,  it  is  not  I 
that  am  tearing  thee  in  two,  as  thou  say  est: 
but  it  is  rather  thou  thyself  that  art  pulling  thy 
soul  to  pieces,  utterly  without  a  cause.  Truly 
wonderful  is  love,  that  fills  his  victims  with 
fears  that  are  absurd,  and  makes  them 
see  before  them  dangers  that  do  not  exist 
at  all! 

And  all  at  once  Aranyani  raised  her  head, 
and  began  to  laugh,  looking  at  him  strangely, 
and  saying  to  herself:  These  were  my  very 
words  to  Babhru,  only  an  hour  ago.  And 
Atirupa  said:  Now,  then,  thou  art  laughing, 
equally  without  a  cause:  but  why?  And  she 
said:  It  is  nothing.  Then  he  said:  Is  it  thy 
reason  returning  to  thee  that  makes  thee  laugh 
instead  of  weep?  For  why  should  it  so  frighten 
and  disturb  thee,  to  think  of  leaving  all  behind 
for  me?  Dost  thou  think  I  cannot  give  thee 
compensation,  ten  thousand  times  over,  for 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  97 

all  thou  lettest  go?     Then  of  what  art  thou 
afraid? 

And  Aranyani  raised  her  head,  and  looked 
fixedly  straight  into  his  eyes,  and  yet  strange! 
seeing  nothing,  for  her  soul  was  absent,  think- 
ing not  of  him  at  all,  but  of  Babhru.  And 
she  said  within  herself:  Can  it  be,  that  what 
Babhru  is  to  me,  that  I  am  to  another,  and 
that  of  every  pair  of  lovers,  one  only  loves? 
And  what  then  will  be  my  fate,  if  I  follow  him 
in  spite  of  all,  only  to  discover,  that  just  as  I 
left  Babhru  in  the  lurch,  so  I  myself  shall  be 
abandoned,  it  may  be,  for  some  other  woman's 
sake?  And  at  the  thought,  she  shuddered,  and 
grew  cold  all  over,  and  turned  suddenly  paler 
than  a  waning  moon. 


IV 


And  Atirupa  saw  it,  and  was  puzzled,  under- 
standing nothing  of  what  was  passing  in  her 
soul.  And  he  drew  her,  half-resisting,  once 
more  towards  him,  and  began  again  to  caress 
her  hair,  saying  as  he  did  so,  very  slowly: 
Aranyani,  thou  art  in  very  truth,  for  thy 
timidity  and  thy  eyes,  own  sister  to  the  deer: 
and  yet,  somehow,  I  would  not  have  it  other- 
wise, for  thy  timidity  is  not  less  beautiful  than 
those  great  eyes  which  it  fills  with  appre- 
hension and  distrust:  and  wert  thou  brave, 
thy  soft  body  would  not  quiver,  to  fill  me  with 
emotion,  nor  shotild  I  now  be  tasting,  as  I  kiss 
thee,  the  salt  beauty  of  those  pearls,  thy  tears. 
Stand  still,  then,  a  little  while,  O  pretty  little 
coward,  and  if  thou  wilt,  tremble  yet  a  little  in 
my  arms,  and  grow  calm,  and  let  me  reassure 

thee:  for  thou  takest  fright  at  the  noise  of 

98 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  99 

every  rustling  leaf,  not  stopping  to  consider 
whether  there  be  really  anything  to  injure  thee 
or  no.  And  now  let  me  ask  thee:  I  have  told 
thee  who  I  am,  and  shown  thee  many  things, 
even  of  thyself,  that  were  unknown  to  thee: 
for  so  far  from  being  strangers,  we  are  actu- 
ally kin.  And  why  then  shouldst  thou  fear  to 
come  away?  for  to  whom  shouldst  thou  come 
if  not  to  thy  own  kindred?  And  yet,  that  is  the 
very  reason  why  I  cannot  ask  thy  father  for 
thee.  For  dost  thou  think,  should  I  go  to  him, 
and  ask  him,  he  would  bestow  thee  on  me,  or 
let  thee  go  away?  Say,  would  he  consent? 
And  Aranyani  said,  in  a  low  voice :  If,  as  thou 
hast  told  me,  thou  really  art  the  son  of  Jaya, 
then  rather  would  he  see  me  lying  dead  at  his 
feet.  And  Atirupa  said:  Thou  seest.  Yet 
why  should  thou  and  I  be  enemies,  because  our 
parents  were?  And  what  then,  O  Aranyani, 
of  the  other?  Would  thy  Babhru  let  thee  go? 
And  she  said:  Nay,  rather  would  he  slay  thee, 
or  himself,  or  it  may  be  even  me.  Then  said 
Atirupa:  O  foolish  one,  canst  thou  then  not 
bring  thyself  to  comprehend,  that  since  I  must 


100  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

absolutely  go  and  none  will  let  thee  go,  either 
thou  must  come  away  with  me,  or  stay  here  by 
thyself?  And  yet,  when  I  show  thee  the  neces- 
sity, thou  art  ready  to  consume  me  like  a  straw 
in  the  flame  of  thy  reproaches.  What  then? 
Wouldst  thou  have  me  go  away  secretly,  saying 
nothing?  And  wouldst  thou  not  then  exclaim 
against  me  as  a  traitor,  never  seeing  me  return? 
And  dost  thou  think  it  easy  for  me  to  go  away, 
leaving  thee  behind?  I  tell  thee,  I  cannot  go 
away  without  thee,  and  yet  I  cannot  stay. 
Then  only  tell  me,  what  to  do.  Say,  little 
cousin,  why  wilt  thou  fear  to  come  away  with 
me?  I  marvel  rather  that  thou  dost  not  fear 
to  stay.  What  wilt  thou  do  alone,  when  I 
am  gone?  Will  thy  father  console  thee  for 
my  absence,  thy  father  who  leaves  thee  all 
alone?  or  will  Babhru  make  up  to  thee  for 
thy  sending  me  away?  I  tell  thee,  they  will 
both  become  so  hateful  in  thy  sight,  that  thou 
wilt  run  away  of  thy  own  accord,  merely  to 
escape  from  them,  no  matter  where.  And 
then  thou  wilt  bitterly  regret  thy  scruples, 
all  too  late,  having  lost  the  opportunity  that 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  loi 

never  will  return;  for  if  I  go  without  thee, 
I  shall  never  come  again.  But  my  image 
will  haunt  thee,  and  follow  thee  about  like 
a  shadow,  to  darken  all  thy  life,  and  instead 
of  a  rapture  ever  present,  I  shall  be  to  thee 
a  memory  of  bitterness,  and  everlasting  self- 
reproach,  and  vain  remorse.  And  thou  wilt 
grow  gradually  older,  alone,  being  in  thy 
own  eyes  a  thing  intolerable,  as  having  cast 
away  a  priceless  gem,  delicious  companion- 
ship, friendship,  and  affection,  that  Fortune 
herself  fished  thee  from  the  deep, only  to  see 
her  present  thrown,  with  ingratitude,  by  thee, 
away.  And  in  thy  loneliness  thou  wilt  seek  in 
vain  to  flee  even  from  thyself,  and  it  may  be, 
judging  thy  life  utterly  unendurable,  thou  wilt 
seek  refuge  from  its  horror  in  a  death  of  thy 
own  contriving,  having  missed  the  very  fruit 
of  thy  birth,  and  ending  like  a  blunder  of  the 
Creator,  and  a  thing  that  had  better  not  have 
been. 


And  as  he  spoke,  he  felt  Aranyani  on  his 
breast,  sobbing  till  she  shook  him,  as  if  to  say: 
Cease,  for  thou  art  driving  a  knife  into  my 
heart.  And  yet  he  went  on  slowly,  as  if  his 
very  object  were  to  stab  her  to  the  quick. 
And  then,  all  at  once  he  changed.  And  he 
whispered  in  her  ear:  Dear  cousin,  why  dost 
thou  so  obstinately  destroy  thyself  and  me? 
What!  dost  thou  make  believe  to  love  me, 
calling  thyself  slave,  and  yet  refuse  to  follow 
me  wherever  I  may  go?  Or  dost  thou  think 
that  thou  art  dreaming,  mistaking  a  shadow 
for  reality,  expecting  suddenly  to  wake,  and 
find  nothing  in  thy  arms,  and  thy  vision  of 
happiness  a  phantom,  vanishing  like  the 
picture  in  the  desert,  leaving  nothing  but  the 
sand?  Thou  resemblest  a  very  foolish  little 
deer,  that  for  idle  fear  of  falling  victim  to 


102 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  103 

delusion,  should  absolutely  refuse  to  drink, 
even  at  a  pool.  O  deer,  what  can  ever  con- 
vince thee  of  the  reality  of  water,  if  thou 
wilt  not  believe,  even  when  thou  art  actually 
standing,  as  at  present,  knee-deep  in  the  lake? 
Must  the  very  futin-e  become  present,  before 
thou  wilt  trust  thyself  to  credit  what  it  holds? 
But  thou  askest  impossibility,  and  like  every 
other  maiden,  thou  canst  not  experience  the 
future  till  it  comes.  Hast  thou,  then,  no  faith 
in  me  at  all?  Out,  out,  upon  the  love  that  can- 
not trust !  O  Aranyani,  siu-ely  thy  love  is  very 
small,  and  a  mere  imitation  and  counterfeit 
of  love :  for  as  a  rule,  true  love  is  tested  by  its 
power  of  putting  faith  in  what  it  loves.  See, 
then,  thou  unbeliever,  I  will  try  to  bring  the 
future  before  thy  very  eyes,  and  as  I  did  be- 
fore, when  I  told  of  the  life  that  lay  before  thee 
by  thyself,  so  now  will  I  paint  for  thee  another 
picture,  to  show  thee  an  image  of  that  life  that 
thou  wilt  forfeit,  by  sending  me  away  alone. 
And  he  paused  for  a  moment,  as  if  reflect- 
ing on  his  coming  words.  But  he  murmured 
to  himself:  I  feel  that  she  is  hesitating,  and 


104  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

trembling  in  the  balance;  resembling  a  fruit 
that  fears  to  fall,  yet  krwDws  that  its  very  nature 
dooms  it  to  be  eaten,  and  is  half  inclined 
on  that  account  to  drop  of  its  own  accord. 
And  now,  with  a  little  shaking,  she  will  drop 
into  my  hand:  since  like  a  very  woman,  she 
cannot  say  either  yes  or  no,  wishing  to  be 
forced  along  the  path  which  all  the  while  she 
longs,  yet  is  terribly  afraid,  to  tread.  And 
now  then  will  I  bait  the  hook  with  flat- 
tery, and  we  shall  see  whether  this  golden 
fish  will  not  swallow  it  as  greedily  as  all  her 
silver  sisters,  resembling  as  they  do  delicate 
and  fragile  foolish  ware  that  sells  itself  in  a 
market  created  by  its  own  vanity,  where  false 
coin  passes  easily  without  detection,  and  is 
even  more  potent  and  valuable  than  true. 
And  yet  in  her  case,  flattery  is  very  easy,  for 
the  grossest  is  only  the  simple  truth. 

And  presently  he  said,  in  a  very  low  voice: 
Aranyani,  tell  me:  am  I  beautiful?  And 
she  said,  after  a  while,  with  her  face  hidden  in 
his  breast:  Why  ask  me  to  repeat  what  I 
have   told   thee   in  every    way    a    thousand 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  105 

times  already?     Then  he  said:     And  does  it 
not  occur  to  thee,  that  thou  givest  me  what 
I  give  thee?     And  so  we  are  a  pair,  for  if  my 
beauty  is  an  idol  to  thee,  what  else  is  thine  to 
me?     But  thou,  all  ignorant  of  thy  own  ex- 
traordinary charm,  art  incredulous,  not  under- 
standing that  I  also  am  a  devotee  to  the  spell 
of  thy  dreamy  eyes,  and  the  aromatic  fragrance 
of  thy  hair,  and  the  clinging  prison  of  thy  soft 
round  arms,  and  the  taste  of  thy  delicious  lips, 
whose  kisses  cool,  like  snowfiakes,  by  their  leaf- 
like, half -involuntary  fall,  the  burning  caused 
by  the  touch  of  thy  trembling  breast,  when  it 
beats  on  my  heart  like  the  surge  of  the  sea. 
And  should  we  separate,  that  were  made  for 
one  another  like  Maheshwara  and  the  Daugh- 
ter of  the  Snow?     Nay,  we  will  rather  grow 
together,  thou,  like  the  creeper,  clinging  ever 
to  me,  just  as  thou  art  doing  now,  indistin- 
guishable from  the  tree  which  is  myself.     And 
thou  shrinkest  from  the  darkness,  but  I  will 
be  thy  darkness  and  thy  night,  O  thou  slender 
digit  of  the  moon.     What  wouldst  thou  do 
without  thy  night,  O  moon?     Or  didst  thou 


io6  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

say,  thyself,  thou  wert  a  flower?  Well,  thou 
shalt  be  my  blue  lotus,  and  I  will  be  thy  pool : 
looking  into  which,  thou  shalt  see  thy  own  re- 
flection, and  rejoice.  Or,  if  thou  wilt,  I  will 
play  the  river,  and  thou  shalt  be  the  silver 
swan  that  floats  upon  its  breast.  What!  wilt 
thou  take  from  the  river  all  its  beauty,  by 
refusing  to  float  upon  the  water  that  only 
longs  to  be  adorned  by  so  beautiful  a  burden? 
Or  better  still,  thou  shalt  be  my  mango 
blossom,  and  I,  thy  mad  black  bee,  living  only 
to  plunder  my  shy  sweet  blossom  of  its  in- 
toxicating wine;  aye,  without  thee,  I  should 
indeed  resemble  a  golden  cup,  without  the 
wine  that  gives  it  all  its  use  and  worth.  Thou 
art  the  salt  of  me,  the  ocean,  and  the  pearl 
within  my  shell:  and  with  thee,  I  shall  be  a 
very  Wishnu,  with  thee,  for  my  Fortune  and 
my  Shri.  And  like  a  word,  I  should  be  utterly 
meaningless  without  thee,  who  art  my  mean- 
ing and  my  soul.  And  wouldst  thou  separate, 
and  sever  me  from  thee?  Nay,  nay,  O  cousin, 
we  will  live  together,  not  like  accidental  waifs 
that  haply  meet  to  part  again  upon  the  waves 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  107 

of  time,  but  rather  Hke  two  happy  children 
playing  King  and  Queen,  drifting  in  a  golden 
boat  along  the  crystal  stream  of  life,  never  so 
much  as  touching  on  a  shoal,  but  gliding  on, 
sometimes  plying  silver  oars,  and  sometimes 
spreading  a  purple  sail  to  catch  the  sandal- 
scented  breeze  that  blows  from  Malaya  loaded 
with  the  lazy  odour  of  the  South,  letting  all 
the  hours  slip  past  us  unperceived,  till  we 
float  away  together  into  the  open  sea  of  Death. 


VI 


And  as  he  mtirmtired,  holding  Aranyanl  in 
arms  that  added  emphasis  by  the  affection  of 
their  pressure  to  the  persuasion  of  his  voice, 
all  at  once  she  tore  herself  away  from  him 
abruptly,  and  went  and  stood,  at  a  little  dis- 
tance, by  herself,  silent,  and  looking  out  upon 
the  sand.  And  Atirupa  stood  still,  watching 
her  with  curious,  half -passionate,  half  medita- 
tive eyes.  And  he  said  within  himself:  She  is 
standing  on  the  very  edge  of  the  precipice,  into 
which  she  is  just  about  to  fall,  irresolute,  and 
dizzy,  and  distracted  by  an  arbitration  which 
she  dares  not  settle  either  way,  not  so  much  out 
of  desire  to  go,  or  stay,  but  rather  because  she  is 
equally  unable  and  unwilling,  either  to  stay,  or 
go :  and  in  the  agony  of  her  beautiful  perplexity, 
she  is  craving  to  be  delivered  from  the  choice, 

by  having  the  matter  settled  for  her ;  and  now, 

1 08 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  109 

the  weight  even  of  a  hair  would  turn  the  scale. 
And  he  drew  near  slowly,  and  said,  after  a 
while:  Hast  thou  forgotten,  O  cousin,  that 
there  will  be  no  farewell  to  say  to  thy  surround- 
ings, though  thou  shouldst  leave  them  now? 
For  there  is  absolutely  nothing  to  prevent  thee 
from  returning  to  visit  them,  as  often  as  thou 
wilt.  But  still  she  answered  nothing,  re- 
maining with  her  back  turned  towards  him, 
exactly  as  before. 

And  once  again  he  said:  Aranyani,  dost 
thou  hear  me?  I  do  not  ask  thee  to  say 
good-bye  for  ever  to  the  wood. 

And  he  waited  for  a  while,  and  at  last,  as 
she  never  either  moved  or  spoke,  he  said  again: 
Since,  then,  thou  art  absolutely  determined, 
and  thy  mind  is  made  up  to  let  me  go  away 
alone:  it  is  well.  So,  now,  there  is  nothing 
left,  but  for  me  to  go.  And  I  must  absolutely 
depart,  whether  I  will  or  no.  For  my  king- 
dom requires  me,  and  my  retinue  is  waiting  at 
the  bottom  of  the  hill,  to  bring  me  over  the 
sand.  And  sometimes  in  the  wood  thou  wilt 
remember  me,  and  it  may  be,  offer  water  to  the 


no  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

ghost  of  our  dead  happiness,  and  the  love  that 
might  have  been,  for  in  this  wood  I  cannot  live, 
and  if  thou  wilt  not  come  away,  it  is  useless 
to  return.  So  bid  me  but  farewell,  and  I  will 
go,  and  thou  shalt  never  see  me  more. 

And  then  she  turned.  And  she  put  out  her 
hand  towards  him,  as  if  with  entreaty,  and 
made  a  single  step,  and  all  at  once  she  swayed, 
and  would  have  fallen,  but  that  he  caught  her 
in  his  arms.  And  she  said,  in  a  voice  so  low 
as  scarcely  to  be  heard:  Take  me,  if  thou 
must,  and  quickly,  for  in  another  moment,  I 
think  that  my  heart  will  break  in  two. 

And  then,  she  sank  down,  bereft  of  her 
reason,  and  lay  in  his  arms  in  a  swoon. 

And  Atirupa  stood  for  a  moment,  looking 
down  upon  her,  as  he  held  her  in  his  arms. 
And  he  said  to  himself,  as  if  half  in  irresolu- 
tion: So,  then,  it  is  over,  and  I  have  con- 
quered, and  she  has  yielded,  and  is  mine.  And 
yet,  somehow  or  other,  I  feel,  in  this  instance, 
a  touch  of  something  that  resembles  pity,  and 
there  is  as  it  were  a  sting,  resembling  that  of  a 
bee,  mixed  with  my  honey,  which  I  never  felt 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  iii 

before.  For  after  all,  she  is  my  own  relation. 
And  what  will  she  do  when  she  finds  out  her 
mistake?  And  yet,  after  all,  the  mischief  is 
done,  and  now  it  is  too  late.  For  as  it  seems, 
she  will  break  her  heart,  in  a  little  while, 
whether  she  goes  away  with  me  or  not. 

And  then,  he  lifted  her  in  his  arms,  and  went 
away  quickly  through  the  trees,  down  the  hill. 


Ill 

THE  DESERT  AND  THE  NIGHT 


"3 


Ill 

THE  DESERT  AND  THE  NIGHT 

I 

So,  then,  night  followed  day,  and  day  suc- 
ceeded night,  in  order.  And  the  new  moon 
waxed,  and  waned :  and  every  day  the  sun  rose 
up  as  usual,  and  travelled  slowly  on,  till  he 
sank  at  eve,  over  the  sand,  beyond  the  western 
hill.  And  then  at  last,  there  came  a  day,  when 
just  as  he  was  sinking,  it  happened  that  Bab- 
hru  sat  alone,  watching  him  as  he  went  down, 
at  that  very  same  place  in  the  wood  where  he 
had  parted  last  from  Aranyani,  the  day  she 
disappeared.  And  strange!  short  as  had  been 
the  interval  of  time,  he  was  altered,  and  it 
seemed  as  though  years  had  rolled  over  him, 
writing  on  him  in  an  instant  the  wrinkles  of 
old  age.     For  he  looked  like  an  incarnation  of 

"5 


ii6  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

dejection,  worn  and  wan,  with  eyes  that  were 
red  and  hollow,  as  if  sleep  had  fled  away  from 
them,  ousted  by  her  jealous  rivals,  sorrow 
and  her  sister  care.  And  as  he  saw  the  sun 
just  on  the  very  point  of  going  down,  he  mur- 
mured to  himself:  He  is  but  showing  me  the 
way,  and  now  very  soon,  I  shall  follow  his 
example,  abandoning  like  him  a  birth,  in  which 
my  business  is  done.  For  what  is  the  use  of 
this  miserable  body,  deserted  and  forsaken  by 
its  soul,  and  left  lying  empty,  and  utterly  for- 
gotten, and  despised?  not  even  knowing  where 
to  look,  or  where  that  soul  is  gone:  this  body, 
which  long  ago  I  would  have  quitted  not  only 
without  regretting  it,  but  even  with  delight, 
could  but  I  know  for  certain  that  Aranyani  is 
actually  dead,  and  unable  to  return:  since  but 
for  the  hope  of  that  return,  I  should  have 
ceased  to  live  these  many  days.  Alas!  I 
cannot  even  tell  whether  she  is  dead,  or  still 
alive.  And  yet  it  cannot  be:  she  is  not  dead. 
And  yet,  she  is  nowhere  to  be  found:  for  I 
have  searched  the  wood  a  hundred  times  from 
end  to  end,  till  there  is  not  a  single  one  of  all  its 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  117 

leaves  I  have  not  turned  upside  down,  and  all 
in  vain.  For  she  has  vanished  like  a  dream,  i 
leaving  not  so  much  as  even  the  shadow  of  a  \ 
clue  behind:  and  she  resembles  a  drop  of  dew, 
dried  by  the  sun  at  noon  on  the  leaf  of  a  red 
lotus,  with  nothing  but  the  memory  of  those 
who  saw  it  in  the  morning  to  show  that  it  was 
ever  there.  She  has  gone,  I  know  not  how,  I 
know  not  where;  snatched  away  and  stolen, 
and  it  may  be  even  put  to  death,  or  something 
that  is  worse  than  any  death,  by  those  who 
have  carried  her  away,  I  know  not  who.  And 
O  alas!  that  I  ever  left  her.  I  only  was  to 
blame,  that  saw  the  evil  coming,  and  shrank 
in  terror  from  its  shadow,  like  a  bird  that  sees 
upon  the  ground  beside  it  the  shadow  of  the 
hawk.  I  left  her,  and  now,  beyond  a  doubt, 
hope  is  absolutely  over,  and  I  shall  never  see 
her  more.  And  why  then  should  I  delay,  or 
wait  to  see  another  sun?  But  what,  if  after 
all,  she  were  not  dead,  but  still  alive,  and 
should  return?  Then,  what  a  fool  I  should 
have  been,  to  die!  And  yet,  if  she  is  dead? 
Alas!  if  she  is  dead,  my  life  is  but  an  idle  waste 


ii8  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

of  time,  and  yet  I  dare  not  die,  for  fear,  lest 
after  all,  she  should  return. 

And  all  at  once,  he  stopped  short :  for  as  he 
spoke,  there  fell  upon  his  ear  a  noise.  And 
he  listened,  and  exclaimed :  I  hear  the  tramp 
of  horses,  approaching  in  the  wood.  And  he 
started  up,  like  his  own  heart,  that  began  to 
beat  violently,  as  if  catching  at  a  straw  of  hope, 
in  the  whirlpool  of  despair.  And  he  said  to 
himself :  Why  should  horses  be  coming  through 
the  wood  at  such  an  hour?  And  as  he  stood 
gazing,  with  a  soul  as  it  were  on  tiptoe,  in  the 
direction  of  the  sound,  a  rider  suddenly  issued 
from  the  trees,  and  came  towards  him,  followed 
by  others  like  himself.  And  as  they  reached 
him,  they  stopped ;  and  their  leader  dismounted 
from  his  horse,  and  came  towards  him,  hold- 
ing it  by  the  rein. 

And  when  Babhru  saw  his  face,  he  started, 
and  exclaimed  within  himself:  Ha!  why! 
that  is  the  very  face  that  I  saw  lurking  in  the 
bush.  And  then,  all  at  once,  he  shouted 
aloud:  Ha!  then,  it  was  thou;  it  is  thou,  as 
I  thought  who  art  ^he  robber,  after  all. 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  119 

'  And  Chamu  laughed,  and  he  said:  O  wood- 
man, not  so  loud:  for  thou  art  hasty,  and  thou 
art  uncivil,  and  thou  art  altogether  wrong: 
though  so  far  thou  art  right,  that  we  are  old 
friends.  Yet  still  thou  art  unjust,  for  I  am 
not  the  robber.  It  was  not  I  that  carried  off 
thy  beauty  from  the  wood,  but  my  master, 
King  Atirupa.  And  thou  art  very  rude,  to 
call  even  him  a  robber.  For  he  did  not  steal 
thy  beauty,  but  only  borrowed  her,  for  a  Uttle 
while,  all  with  her  own  consent.  And  now 
he  has  returned  her  by  my  hands:   and  here 

she  is. 

And  he  turned,  and  Babhru  looked,  and 
lo!  they  lifted  Aranyani  from  a  horse,  and 
set  her  on  the  ground.  And  as  Babhru  stood 
gazing  at  her,  like  one  struck  by  a  thunderbolt, 
Chamu  said  again :  Thou  owest  me  not  abuse, 
but  gratitude,  O  woodman,  for  see,  I  have 
brought  her  back  to  thee,  all  across  the  sand, 
where  many  in  my  place  would  have  left  her 
in  the  middle  of  the  way,  for  it  was  a  thankless 
task,  and  she  was  a  cross-grained  burden,  that 
was  very  loath  to  come  at  all.     So  as  thou 


120  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

seest,  thou  wert  very  wrong  to  call  even  Atir- 
upa  robber:  for  here  she  is  again.  And  the 
women  are  silly  creatures,  who  only  have 
themselves  to  blame,  since  they  flock  to  him, 
like  flies  to  honey,  all  of  their  own  accord.  But 
this  young  beauty  grew  so  peevish,  when  she 
found  she  was  only  one  of  a  thousand  others, 
that  the  Maharaja  could  not  keep  her  any 
longer.  And  now  she  will  make  thee  the  very 
best  of  wives,  woodman:  since  she  has  had 
some  lessons,  and  a  little  practice  in  the  art, 
and  come  back  richer  than  she  went  away: 
none  the  worse,  but  all  the  better,  for  having 
tasted  a  King*s  kisses,  and  learned  her  trade  in 
the  best  of  schools.  Thy  eldest  son  will  be  a 
beauty,  even  if  all  the  others  are  as  ugly  as  thy- 
self. And  if  his  mother  calls  him  Atirupa, 
just  as  a  reminiscence,  never  mind:  for  when 
she  has  once  stopped  weeping  she  will  love  thee 
just  as  well  as  him. 

And  as  he  spoke,  Babhru  stared  at  him  with 
eyes  that  hardly  saw  him,  and  ears  that  hardly 
heard  him,  and  a  soul  that  hardly  understood, 
filled  as  it  was  to  the  very  brim  with  such  a 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  121 

flood  of  pity,  and  horror,  and  amazement,  and 
yet  delight  at  her  return,  no  matter  how,  that 
there  was  absolutely  no  room  at  all  for  even  a 
single  drop  of  wrath.  And  while  he  looked 
from  her  to  Chamu,  and  from  Chamu  back 
again  to  her,  Chamu  got  back  upon  his  horse, 
and  all  those  riders  rode  away. 


II 


But  Babhru  stood  exactly  where  he  was, 
Hke  a  pictiire  painted  on  a  wall,  hardly  heed- 
ing their  departure,  gazing  at  Aranyani.  And 
as  he  watched  her,  tears  rose  up  suddenly  and 
stood,  as  if  to  blind  him,  in  his  eyes,  springing 
from  the  well  of  the  very  ecstasy  of  compass- 
ion within  his  heart.  For  she  lay  half  crouch- 
ing, half  fallen  on  the  ground,  exactly  as  they 
had  set  her  down,  never  moving,  and  resem- 
bHng  a  body  that  is  all  but  dead.  And  her 
face,  that  was  turned  towards  him,  looked  ab- 
solutely strange  to  him,  so  marvellously  had  it 
altered  since  he  saw  it  last.  For,  as  it  seemed 
youth  and  joy  had  fled  from  it,  leaving  it  to 
be  as  it  were  a  very  battle-ground  for  grief  and 
age,  and  passion  and  shame,  and  humiliation, 
and  weariness,  and  despair.  And  instead  of 
her  forest  garments,  she  was  magnificently 

122 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  123 

dressed  and  yet  her  clothing  was  ill-arranged, 
and  disordered,  and  very  dusty ;  and  her  hair 
was  all  dishevelled,  and  floated  loose  about  her 
head,  as  if  to  match  and  imitate  the  wild  dis- 
order of  her  soul  within.  And  yet,  somehow  or 
other  she  seemed  for  all  that,  in  his  eyes  even 
more  beautiful  than  ever,  with  a  beauty  that  ap- 
palled him  as  he  saw  it,  for  she  was  utterly  un- 
like herself ,  as  if  her  own  soul  had  been  suddenly 
changed  into  another,  making  its  envelope  into 
something  other  than  it  was,  to  suit  the  al- 
teration. And  gradually  as  Babhru  watched 
her,  his  hair  stood  up  upon  his  body,  as  if 
with  fright,  and  anticipation  of  something 
coming,  that  he  did  not  understand. 

So  he  stood  silent,  watching  her,  forgetful  of 
himself,  with  a  soul  that  yearned  to  comfort  her 
and  soothe  her,  and  caress  her  and  console  her, 
yet  utterly  unable,  and  half  fearing,  to  say 
anything  at  all.  And  in  the  silence,  gradually 
dread  began  to  creep  all  over  him,  as  he 
saw  her  continue,  lying  absolutely  still,  and 
yet  every  now  and  then  breathing,  very 
slowly   and   with   difficulty,  like   one  that  is 


124  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

suffering  an  agony  of  pain.  And  at  last,  after 
a  long  while,  he  moved  a  little  nearer,  and  he 
said,  with  timidity  and  emotion:  O  Aranyani 
alas !  thou  art  suffering.  And  dost  thou  think 
I  can  endure  to  see  thee  suffer?  At  least,  at 
least,  thou  hast  returned,  no  matter  how.  O 
alas !  for  all  thy  suffering,  I  only  am  to  blame ; 
for  well  I  understood  I  was  wrong  to  abandon 
thee,  and  leave  thee  as  a  prey.  But  at  least, 
thou  hast  returned,  and  only  just  in  time:  for 
hadst  thou  stayed  away  another  day,  I  could 
not  have  endiu-ed.  I  thought  thee  dead,  for 
day  by  day,  I  waited,  and  day  by  day,  thou 
didst  not  come:  and  each  night  was  longer, 
and  more  awful  than  the  last.  And  I  sought 
thee  in  every  quarter  of  the  wood,  but  thou 
wert  not  to  be  found.  And  now,  lo! 
there  before  my  eyes,  hardly  to  be  believed, 
thou  art;  and  now  I  am  almost  ready 
once  more  to  die,  for  joy,  that  is  mingled, 
I  know  not  how,  with  an  agony  of  grief. 
And  yet,  I  blame  myself,  selfish  that  I  am, 
for  being  even  able  to  rejoice  at  all,  while 
thou  art  suffering.     Ah!   only  tell  me  what 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  125 

to  do,  to  share  thy  grief,  or  take  it  all  upon 

myself. 

And  as  he  spoke,  he  leaned  towards  her, 
and  looked,   and  lo!  a  tear  rolled  suddenly 
from  her  eye,  and  fell  upon  the  ground:  but 
she  never  stirred  or  spoke.     And  again  he 
said,  with  difficulty  and  hesitation:  Aranyani, 
dost  thou  think,  dost  thou  really  think,  thou 
art  guilty  in  my  eyes,   or  in   any  way   to 
blame,  because    ruffians,    attracted    by    thy 
beauty,  came  and  carried  thee  away?     Is  it 
any  fault  in  the  lotus,  if  the  traveller  that  sees 
it,  plucks  it,  and  wears  it  for  a  moment  in  his 
hair,  only  to  throw  it  presently  away,  and 
trample  it  underfoot?     Alas,  it  is  not  thou  but 
myself  that  I  condemn;  I,  only,  that  am  guilty, 
and  all  the  more,  that  whereas  now  I  ought 
to  weep  with  thee,  I  am,  on  the  contrary,  so 
transported  with  delight  to  see  thee,  returned 
to  me  no  matter  how,  that  I  am  almost  ready 
to  abandon  the  body  out  of  joy.     Or  art  thou 
fearful,  lest  I  should  torture  thee  with  ctLriosity, 
or  question,  or  reproach  of  any  kind?      Ah! 
no,  listen  now,  and  I  will  tell  thee.     Thou  shalt 


126  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

think,  if  thou  wilt,  of  all  that  has  occurred 
to  thee  as  nothing  but  a  dream,  from  which 
thou  hast  awoken.  Only  a  dream,  from  which 
thou  hast  awoken.  And  I,  that  never  knew  it, 
will  forget  it,  as  utterly  and  completely  as 
thyself:  and  it  is  already  buried  in  oblivion, 
and  resembles  a  thing  that  has  never  come 
about,  and  had  better  not  have  been. 

And  again  he  leaned  towards  her,  as  if  he 
were  a  culprit  that  begged  her  to  forgive  him, 
and  lo !  he  saw  the  tears  rolling  from  her  eyes 
in  a  stream,  as  if  something  in  his  words  were 
like  a  knife  in  her  heart.  But  still  she  never 
spoke,  and  never  stirred.  And  once  again  he 
said,  as  if  with  entreaty :  Aranyani,  thou  canst 
not  imagine,  even  in  a  dream,  what  happiness 
is  mine.  See !  thou  art  agitated,  and  it  must 
be,  very  weary.  And  now,  then,  I  will  lead 
thee,  or  if  thou  wilt,  carry  thee,  home.  And 
there  thou  shalt  sleep,  absolutely  undisturbed, 
for  to-night,  and  to-morrow,  and  as  long  as 
thou  shalt  choose.  And  all  the  while,  I  will 
watch  without,  and  bring  thee  food,  and  do 
everything  as  thou  wilt,  at  thy  bidding;  and 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  127 

above  all,  guard,  and  protect  thee,  from  any 
fresh  attempt.  Woe  to  the  man  who  shall  at- 
tempt to  molest  thee  any  more !  And  so  shalt 
thou  live,  exactly  as  thou  wilt,  with  me  for  thy 
servant.  And  very  soon,  even  the  memory  of 
that  which  now  distresses  thee  will  fade  out  of 
thy  soul.  And  there  will  be  absolutely  nobody 
to  make  thee  feel  ashamed,  or  in  any  way  what- 
ever bring  trouble  to  the  quiet  of  thy  soul.  For 
as  to  thy  father,  when  he  discovered  thy  dis- 
appearance, he  came  to  me,  thinking  I  had 
stolen  thee.  And  when  he  saw  instantly,  by 
my  frenzy,  he  was  wrong,  all  at  once  he 
cried  out:  Mother  and  daughter,  mother  and 
daughter :  this  is  a  stab  in  the  dark  from  Jaya. 
And  I  know  not  what  he  meant.  But  I  think 
that  his  heart  broke  within  him,  for  after  a  day 
or  two,  he  died. 


Ill 


And  then,  like  a  flash  of  lightning,  Aranyani 
started  to  her  feet,  with  a  scream  that  rang 
through  the  wood,  making  the  heart  of  Babhru 
suddenly  leap  into  his  throat.  And  she  threw 
up  her  arms,  with  agony,  and  all  at  once  she 
sprang  from  her  place,  and  darted  like  an 
arrow  from  a  bow  towards  the  hut.  And 
then  again,  almost  instantly,  as  he  stood  gazing 
at  her  in  dismay,  she  turned  sharp  round,  and 
began  to  run  away  in  the  opposite  direction 
like  a  deer.  And  as  if  waking  from  a  dream, 
he  began  to  pursue  her.  And  he  overtook 
her,  and  laid  his  hand  upon  her  shoulder,  as 
if  to  say :  Whither  art  thou  hastening  without 
looking  where  to  go? 

But   when    she   felt   him  touch   her,   she 

stopped  suddenly  and  turned,  and  looked  at 

him,  as  if  in  the  extremity  of  fear.     And  all  at 

128 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  129 

once,  she  began  to  laugh,  as  if  she  were  mad, 
with  round  eyes  that  were  filled  with  amaze- 
ment and  derision.  And  she  exclaimed:  Ha! 
Babhru,  is  it  thou?  But  I  left  thee  behind  me 
in  the  wood.  Ha!  thou  also  art  deserted,  and 
rejected,  and  despised.  Come,  then,  and  let 
us  escape  very  rapidly  together.  And  she 
seized  him  by  the  arm,  and  began  to  drag  him 
violently  along.  And  she  lowered  her  voice  to 
a  whisper,  and  began  to  speak,  so  quickly  that 
the  words  stumbled  over  one  another  as  they 
rushed  out  of  her  mouth.  And  she  said:  Poor 
Babhru,  thou  art  so  ugly  that  she  could  not 
love  thee  in  return,  quite  forgetting  that  she 
was  herself  so  ugly  that  nobody  could  love  her 
either.  But  he  was  so  beautiful,  so  beautiful, 
so  beautiful  that  she  ran  away  and  left  thee  in 
the  lurch:  never  even  dreaming  that  all  the 
other  women  were  as  silly  as  herself.  Ah! 
the  other  women,  they  were  so  many  and  so 
cruel.  There  were  no  other  women  in  the 
wood.  Was  it  lonely,  Babhru,  in  the  wood, 
after  she  went  away?  Poor  ugly  Babhru,  all 
alone  in  the  wood,  while  we  were  kissing  each 


130  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

other  in  the  city.  She  used  to  see  thee,  Babhru, 
as  she  kissed  him,  sitting  all  by  thyself  in  the 
wood,  and  weeping  by  thyself.  She  loved 
thee  just  a  very  little.  Didst  thou  remember? 
But  in  the  city,  she  feared,  she  feared,  to  see 
thee  suddenly  appear.  But  very  likely,  thou 
didst  not  know  where  she  had  gone.  Thou 
wouldst  have  killed  him,  Babhru.  Why  didst 
thou  not  run  after  her?  But  they  would 
not  have  admitted  thee,  poor  Babhru,  thou 
art  so  very  ugly:  and  thou  wouldst  only  have 
wandered,  going  round  and  round  the  palace, 
outside,  outside,  while  all  the  time  he  was 
kissing  thy  lotus  and  trampling  on  its  heart, 
inside.  And  yet  she  was  his  cousin,  and 
the  daughter  of  a  King.  Ha!  Babhru,  thou 
wert  ignorant,  and  didst  not  know.  But 
there  were  so  many  other  women,  all  alike. 
Couldst  thou  even  have  discovered  her 
among  them  all?  Her  eyes,  her  eyes  were 
different:  her  eyes  were  dreamy,  and  her 
kisses  like  snowflakes.  Surely  it  was  better, 
after  all,  in  the  wood:  there  were  no  other 
women  there.     Didst  thou  imagine,  Babhru, 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  131 

thou  wert  the  only  one  to  be  dishonoiured  and 
befouled,  trodden  down  into  the  mud  and 
thrown  away?  But  the  very  pools  were  there 
to  teach  thee,  thou  art  so  ugly,  so  ugly:  and 
she  was  so  beautiful.  Couldst  thou  expect 
any  better  fate  than  hers?  How  could  she 
love  thee,  being  herself  so  unworthy  to  be 
loved  ?  And  he  was  like  the  very  God  of  Love, 
wandering  in  the  wood.  But  it  was  she  that 
lost  her  way.  He  knew  his  way  very  well  in- 
deed. How  could  she  expect  to  keep  him  all 
to  herself?  Is  not  the  whole  world  full  to  the 
very  brim  of  women  with  cruel  eyes?  O 
Babhru,  why  wert  thou  such  a  fool  as  to  think 
one  woman  any  better  than  another?  Fool 
that  she  was,  to  think  to  keep  him  all  to  her- 
self! O  Babhru,  thou  art  absolutely  nothing,  in 
comparison  with  him.  Thou  art  so  rude  and 
coarse  and  rough,  and  he  is  more  beautiful  than 
any  woman.  And  he  was  so  gentle  and  so 
kind,  and  his  kisses  were  so  sweet.  No,  it  was 
Babhru  who  was  kind,  and  he  was  like  a  snake. 
Listen,  and  let  me  tell  thee:  kisses  that  are 
sweet  are  the  bitterest  of  all:  when  other  lips 


132  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

come  in  between.  Thou  feelest  them,  the 
other  lips,  between  his  lips  and  thy  own.  And 
his  lips  were  a  flower  that  is  visited  by  a  thou- 
sand bees.  O  Babhru,  how  canst  thou  know 
anything  about  it,  since  thy  lips  have  never 
kissed  anyone  at  all?  Kiss  me,  poor  Babhru, 
and  thou  shalt  learn  by  experience  the  poison 
of  a  kiss,  from  lips  that  are  sticky  with  the 
honey  left  by  other  bees. 


IV 

And  as  Babhru  listened,  gazing  at  her  with 
alarm,  with  his  reason  swept  as  it  were  along  in 
a  flood  of  grief,  and  humiliation,  and  com- 
passion, and  sheer  amazement,  and  hardly 
understanding  the  words  flowing  from  her 
mouth  like  the  water  of  a  stream,  she  stopped 
short,  and  laid  her  hand  upon  his  own.  And 
he  started  at  its  touch,  for  it  burned  him  like  a 
flame,  as  if  she  was  on  fire.  And  she  said  with 
a  smile,  while  the  tears  were  running  down  her 
face:  Babhru,  dost  thou  know,  Aranyani  was 
a  creeper,  supported  by  a  noble  tree?  And 
yet  somehow  or  other,  the  tree  has  disap- 
peared. Who  knows?  for  doubtless  it  was 
all  eaten  away  within,  and  hollow,  and  as  I 
think,  the  ants  must  have  devoured  it,  leaving 
absolutely  nothing  but  emptiness,  and  earth, 

and  dust.     So  beautiful  it  seemed  outside, 

133 


134  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

surely  the  poor  creeper  could  not  tell  how 
base,  and  rotten,  and  horrible  it  was  within. 
So  when  I  saw  it  suddenly,  inside,  it  hurt  me 
here.  And  she  put  both  her  hands  upon  her 
heart,  and  began  to  sob.  And  then,  all  at 
once,  she  began  again  to  laugh.  And  she  said : 
Aye!  she  was  a  pearl,  and  a  swan,  and  I  know 
not  what  beside,  and  now  she  is  absolutely  no- 
thing, like  a  broken  pot.  And  the  golden  boat 
has  perished,  never  so  much  as  reaching  even 
the  shadow  of  the  sea.  Babhru,  it  was  a  lie: 
it  was  a  miserable  boat,  all  full  of  holes,  that 
sank  into  the  cold  black  water  like  a  stone. 
Base  and  rotten,  how  could  it  swim,  loaded 
with  such  an  inntunerable  host  of  other 
women?  Base,  ah!  who  knows  better  than 
Aranyani  the  agony  of  finding  it  was  base. 
Was  Aranyani  base,  Babhru,  dost  thou  know? 
And  all  the  women  hated  each  other,  she 
and  all  the  others:  Babhru,  it  was  hell  in  the 
golden  boat.  And  she  was  worst  of  all,  she 
wept,  and  wept,  and  wept,  till  at  last  they 
turned  her  out,  and  Chamu  took  her  away. 
And  then  it  was,  I  think,  she  died.     It  hurt  her 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  135 

so  to  go  away,  she  must  have  died:  and  Chamu 
took  her  and  carried  her  away  when  she  was 
dead.  And  she  was  so  terrified  of  Chamu.  Ati- 
rupa,  Atirupa,  save,  O  save  me  from  Chamu's 
eyes.  Babhru,  beware  of  Chamu,  for  he  is 
the  very  worst  of  all:  worse  even  than  the 
women.  She  was  frightened  of  his  laughter: 
it  was  worse,  far  worse,  than  all  the  laughter  of 
the  women.  They  pushed  her  from  their  boat, 
and  Chamu  took  her.  And  she  begged  and 
begged  and  begged  him  only  to  leave  her  in  the 
sand ;  for  then  she  would  have  died,  and  never 
lived  to  see  her  father  and  Babhru  any  more. 
O  Babhru,  why  didst  thou  not  die  also,  before 
they  brought  her  back?  Chamu,  Chamu,  did 
Atirupa  give  you  Aranyani,  to  kiss  her  dead 
body  on  the  sand? 

And  all  at  once,  Babhru  began  to  tremble 
like  a  leaf.  And  he  exclaimed:  Aranyani, 
Aranyani!  And  suddenly  she  fell  down  and 
began  to  kiss  his  feet.  And  then,  he  shud- 
dered, and  began  to  sob,  as  if  a  sword  had  run 
into  his  heart :  and  the  sweat  broke  out  upon 
his  brow.     And  he  stooped  down,  and  lifted 


136  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

her  violently  up,  saying  in  a  low  voice  that 
shook  hke  himself:  Aranyani,  thy  reason  has 
deserted  thee.  Come  now,  and  I  will  take 
thee  home. 

And  she  said  with  a  shriek :  Nay,  nay,  for  the 
ghost  of  my  father  is  waiting  there,  to  drive  me 
away.  Come  away  into  the  wood  where  it 
is  dark.  And  she  dragged  him  by  the  hand, 
and  she  whispered:  Babhru,  I  have  a  thing  to 
ask  of  thee.  Wilt  thou  kill  me  with  thy  knife 
in  the  darkness?  for  otherwise  I  must  abandon 
the  body  of  my  own  accord. 

And  Babhru  started,  and  he  exclaimed,  with 
horror:  Aranyani,  art  thou  mad?  What! 
should  I  kill  thee,  I,  kill  thee,  who  art  my  very 
soul? 


And  she  gazed  at  him  awhile  in  silence,  and 
then,  there  came  into  her  eyes  an  anguish  that 
was  mixed  with  disappointment  and  despair. 
And  she  turned  away,  and  murmured,  as  if 
speaking  to  herself,  with  melancholy:  He 
also  is  my  enemy.  They  will  not  even  kill  her. 
They  keep  her  living,  when  she  only  asks  for 
death,  not  even  letting  her  escape,  shutting 
her  like  a  prisoner  in  the  dungeon  of  her  lonely 
soul.  Even  Chamu  would  not  kill  her:  though 
she  prayed  him.  He  only  laughed.  And 
yet  she  was  already  dead,  slain  long  ago, 
and  done  away,  leaving  nothing  but  a  corpse. 

And  she  stood  for  a  moment,  as  if  reflecting, 
and  all  at  once  she  turned,  and  looked  at 
Babhru,  with  a  face  that  was  wan  in  the  moon- 
light, and  eyes  that  were  filled  with  anxiety, 

and  misery  and  pain.     And  suddenly,  they 

137 


13S  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

changed,  becoming  filled  with  laughter  and 
hatred  and  derision.  And  she  came  up  close 
to  him,  as  if  to  whisper  in  his  ear,  and  sud- 
denly she  struck  him  in  the  face,  with  a  shout 
of  laughter.  And  she  said,  contemptuously: 
Thou  wilt  not  kill  me?  Poor  Babhru,  thou 
hast  not  even  yet  begun  to  understand.  Dost 
thou  remember  Aranyani,  that  told  thee 
stories,  long,  long  ago,  in  the  wood?  She  is 
dead.  Far  away  in  the  desert  they  took  her 
heart,  and  tore  it  and  trod  it  into  pieces,  and 
flung  her  body  out,  to  wander  in  the  world 
alone,  dressed  in  the  clothes  of  misery  and 
shame.  And  this  it  is,  thou  wilt  not  kill.  Thou 
wouldst  actually  keep  her  miserable  body  still 
alive,  to  live  with  in  the  torttire  of  this  wood, 
where  Aranyani  lived  long  ago,  to  suffer  every 
instant  the  horror  of  recollection,  and  to  be 
mocked  for  ever  by  the  memory  of  a  happiness 
that  is  changed  into  despair.  Like  monkeys 
that  go  by  among  the  trees,  they  found  a  fruit, 
and  bit  it,  only  to  go  on  and  leave  it  lying, 
deserted  and  outraged  and  dishonoured  on  the 
ground.     Thou  thinkest  to  find  happiness  in 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  139 

watching  her  dead  body?  Thou  wilt  not  kill 
her,  poor  Babhru?  Dost  thou  know  what  she 
will  think  of,  living  beside  thee  in  the  wood? 
Dost  thou  think  it  will  be  thou?  Alas,  poor 
ugly  Babhru,  it  will  be  he.  And  every  time 
she  sees  thee,  she  will  compare  thee  and  him, 
thy  body  with  his  body,  thy  eyes  with  his  eyes. 
Her  lips  would  never  touch  thee  without 
thinking  of  his  own.  Thou  wilt  only  love 
what  he  rejected,  and  bite  at  the  very  place 
which  the  monkeys  bit  before  thee  when  they 
threw  the  fruit  away.  The  taste  would  be  so 
bitter  that  thy  love  would  turn  to  hatred  in  a 
day.  She  would  loathe  the  very  sight  of  thee, 
and  every  time  she  looked  at  thee,  her  eyes 
would  tell  thee  thou  wert  so  ugly  and  con- 
temptible in  comparison  with  him.  They 
have  flung  thee  the  relic  of  a  life  that  they 
would  not  take  away,  merely  in  derision.  Wilt 
thou  live  even  with  a  victim  that  despises 
thee?  Half  dead  and  half  alive,  like  a  lizard 
mangled  by  a  passing  crow,  and  left  to  writhe : 
a  deer,  struck  by  an  idle  hunter,  left  wounded 
in  the  jungle,  unable  even  to  procure  its  death, 


140  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

to  ebb  away  its  life  through  burning  days  and 
black  intolerable  nights,  eyed  by  the  vultures 
sitting  by.  And  thou  wouldst  be  the  vulture? 
Thou  wilt  only  be  a  jackal,  eating  what  the 
lion  leaves.  What!  live  beside  her,  knowing 
that  another  is  buried  in  her  heart?  Wilt 
thou  feed,  like  a  dog,  even  on  the  bodies 
of  the  dead?  Poor  Babhru,  dost  thou  not 
understand?  She  cast  thee  off  and  left  thee 
for  a  lover  that  she  never  will  forget,  and 
living  like  a  vampire  in  her  body  that  is  dead, 
he  will  utterly  despise  thee,  laughing  at  thee 
in  her  eyes.  Ah!  Wilt  thou  actually  wait  to 
understand,  till  a  little  Atirupa  comes,  to  spit, 
exactly  like  his  father,  in  thy  face? 


VI 


And  as  Babhru  listened,  all  at  once  the 

words  of  Chamu  as  he  went  away  rose  up  and 

stood  before  him,  as  if  they  had  lain  waiting, 

and  as  it  were  sleeping  in  his  soul,  till  roused  into 

recollection  by  her  own.     And  suddenly,  the 

veil,  formed  by  his  own  devotion  to  Aranyani 

and  his  own  self-annihilation,  that  hid  from 

him  the  truth,  was  lifted  from  his  eyes.     And 

he    saw    himself  suddenly    as  in    a  mirror, 

mocked,  and  scorned,  and  as  it  were  a  very 

target  for  the  contempt  and  derision  of  Chamu, 

and  his  master,  and  even  of  herself.     And  his 

heart  swelled  suddenly  with  such  a  flood  of 

shame,  and  anger,  and  the  bitterness  of  his 

own  inferiority,  that  it  almost  broke  in  two. 

And  his  face  fell :  and  his  eyes,  that  were  fixed 

on  Aranyani,  grew  darker  and  ever  darker, 

as  if  night  at  a  single  stride   had   suddenly 

141 


142  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

extinguished  in  his  heart  the  hope  that  had 
dawned  in  it  at  her  return. 

So  he  stood  a  long  while,  sinking,  as  he 
looked  at  her,  deeper  and  deeper  into  the 
blackness  of  despair,  and  resembling  one  that 
waits  in  darkness  for  a  light  that  still  flickers  to 
go  out  and  disappear.  And  suddenly  he  said 
to  himself:  She  is  right.  For  fate  in  the  form  of 
Atirupa  has  destroyed  her  and  her  happiness, 
and  mine.  And  he  looked  fixedly  at  Aranyani, 
who  was  standing  watching  him,  and  wait- 
ing, as  it  were,  for  his  decision :  and  he  said : 
Aranyani,  I  was  wrong,  and  thou  art  right. 
And  now  there  is  no  remedy  but  one,  and  it  is 
better  to  be  dead.  And  as  he  spoke,  he  took 
his  knife,  and  drew  it  from  its  sheath,  and 
waited,  clutching  it  in  his  hand. 

And  instantly,  Aranyani  uttered  a  cry  of 
joy.  And  she  came  quickly  and  stood  close  to 
him,  and  she  took  hold  with  both  hands  of  the 
choli  that  covered  her,  and  tore  it  violently 
asunder,  dragging  it  down,  till  her  breast  was 
absolutely  bare.  And  she  said:  See!  I  am 
ready.     And  so  she  remained,  waiting,  with 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  143 

her  bosom  turned  up  towards  him  in  the  moon- 
light, bared,  and  as  it  were  eager,  for  the 
coming  blow. 

And  he  stood  still  for  yet  a  moment,  looking 
down  upon  her  with  melancholy  eyes,  in  which, 
strange!  there  was  not  a  vestige  even  of  the 
shadow  of  any  anger.  And  he  said  to  himself : 
There,  in  the  very  middle,  between  those  two 
round  marble  breasts,  the  knife  shall  fall. 
And  as  he  hesitated,  a  tear  rose  up  into  his 
eyes,  as  if  to  bid  farewell  to  his  own  happiness. 
And  he  murmured  to  himself:  They  were  for 
him  and  not  for  thee.  And  he  passed  his  left 
hand  over  his  eyes,  as  if  to  clear  his  sight,  and 
suddenly  he  raised  his  knife,  and  buried  it  in 
her  heart. 


VII 


So,  then,  with  a  sigh  that  was  half  a  cry,  she 

swayed  and  fell.     And  he  never  tried  to  catch 

her,  but  stood  a  long  while  silent,  exactly  where 

he  was,  looking  down  upon  her  lying  still. 

And  then,  he  sat  down  upon  the  ground  beside 

her,  and  lifted  her  very  gently,  and  set  her  on 

his  lap,  propping  her  head  upon  his  shoulder: 

and  he  began  to  whisper  in  her  ear,  patting  her 

as  he  did  so,  and  rocking  her  to  and  fro,  like 

one  that  soothes    a    child.       And   he  said: 

Now,   then,    thy  trouble   is    all  over,    and  I 

have  given  thee  rest,  for  it  was  better  to  be 

dead.     And  thou  wilt  never  know  what  it  cost 

me  to  give  thee  the  blow.      But  now  thou 

canst  go  to  sleep,  for  thou  art  very  weary: 

forgetting  all,  and  not  fearing  any  recollection 

in  the  morning:  since  thy  sleep  will  be  a  long 

one,  and  thou  wilt  never  wake  again.     And 

144 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  145 

all  the  evil  dreams  have  vanished  with  their 
author,  never  to  return;  and  now  once  more 
Aranyani  is  herself,  only  differing  in  this,  that 
she  is  dead.  Aye!  it  was  better  to  be  dead: 
and  my  blow  has  blotted  out  all  the  bitterness 
and  shame.  And  thou  didst  await  it  so 
bravely:  and  yet,  hadst  thou  known,  it  was  not 
thy  death  only,  but  mine,  for  which  thou  wert 
asking,  thou  wouldst  have  shrunk,  it  may  be, 
from  the  blow,  which,  as  it  was,  thou  wert  only 
too  joyful  to  receive.  And  now  very  soon,  I 
shall  follow  thee,  by  a  second  blow,  far  easier  to 
give ;  for  to  give  thee  thine  was  very  hard ;  so 
hard,  that  it  hurt  my  heart  a  hundred  times  as 
much  as  thine.  But  in  the  meanwhile,  we  will 
sit  together  in  the  moonlight,  just  for  a  very 
little  while,  and  talk,  as  of  old.  Only  thou 
canst  not  tell  me  stories,  and  call  me  Bruin, 
any  more.  Thou  didst  give  thyself,  alive,  to 
others:  but  thou  art  mine,  now  that  thou  art 
dead:  and  that  is  enough.  And  this  is,  as  it 
were,  my  marriage  night.  And  think  not  that 
I  bear  thee  any  grudge,  for  the  words  spoken  at 
random  in  thy  madness,  or  even  for  the  blow ; 


146  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

for  that  is  nothing,  from  such  a  Httle  hand  as 
thine.  Come,  let  me  see  it,  for  maybe  it  hurt 
itself  more  than  it  hurt  me.  Ha!  dost  thou 
remember  the  very  story  that  thou  didst  tell 
me  thyself,  about  the  sage?  And  now,  who 
knows  better  than  myself,  that  a  blow  hurts 
the  giver  more  than  the  receiver?  For  no  one 
ever  hurt  himself  so  much  as  I  did  when  I 
gave  thee  thy  blow.  It  was  not  to  return 
blow  for  blow  that  I  gave  it.  Ah!  it  is  not 
thou  against  whom  I  bear  a  grudge,  for  all 
thy  words  and  thy  little  irritable  blow ;  but  it 
is  thy  vile  lover  and  his  viler  instrtmient,  who 
have  ruined  thee,  and  brought  about  thy  death. 

And  then,  all  at  once,  he  uttered  an  ex- 
clamation. And  he  stopped  short,  and  set  her 
down  upon  the  ground,  and  stood  up.  For 
suddenly,  as  if  for  the  very  first  time,  the 
injury  done  to  her  by  Atirupa  and  his  follower 
rose  up,  and  took  him  as  it  were  by  the 
throat. 

And  as  he  stood  thinking,  all  at  once  he  be- 
gan to  tremble  unawares,  with  rage.  And  he 
exclaimed:  Aha!  Atirupa,  I  have  remembered, 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  147 

and  only  just  in  time:  I  am  not  dead  yet. 
And  he  looked  down  at  Aranyani,  as  she  lay. 
And  he  said:  Aranyani,  forgive  me!  Well 
didst  thou  call  me  fool.  For  I  came  within  an 
ace  of  following  thee  into  the  other  world, 
leaving  thee  unavenged.  But  now  I  see  that 
before  I  go  there  is  other  work  to  do  on  thy 
behalf.  And  now,  then,  I  will  guarantee  that 
it  shall  be  done,  very  soon,  and  very  well. 
Then,  not  sooner,  will  I  die,  when  I  have  shown 
the  murderers  of  Aranyani  that  she  has  left 
behind  her  arms  a  little  longer,  and  hands  a 
little  harder,  than  her  own.  Aha!  Atirupa, 
wait  for  a  little  while !  And  then  shalt  thou 
discover  that  the  ghost  of  Aranyani  has 
abandoned  her  body,  only  to  enter  mine:  just 
on  purpose  to  caress  thee,  for  the  very  last 
time. 

And  he  stooped  down,  and  laid  his  great 
arm  beside  hers,  as  if  to  compare  them,  and  he 
laughed.  And  then,  very  gently,  he  lifted  her 
in  those  strong  arms,  and  began  to  carry  her 
away,  rejoicing  in  his  burden,  like  one  that 
carries  in  his  arms  his  newly- wedded  wife.     So 


148  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

he  went  on  in  the  moonHt  wood,  till  he  came  at 
last  to  her  home.  And  there  he  carried  her  in, 
and  laid  her  down  very  gently  on  a  bed  of 
leaves.  And  then,  with  hesitation,  he  kissed 
her  softly  on  the  brow,  whispering  as  he  did  so : 
Thou  didst  bid  me  kiss  thee,  in  thy  madness, 
and  now,  it  cannot  hurt  thee :  though  I  would 
have  gladly  given  many  lives  to  kiss  thee,  for 
the  first  time  and  the  last,  before.  But  thy 
kisses  were  for  others. 

And  all  at  once,  he  began  to  sob,  as  if  some- 
thing in  his  soul,  that  had  till  then  supported 
it,  had  suddenly  given  way.  And  he  began  to 
wail,  wringing  his  hands,  and  tearing  his  hair, 
and  crying,  Aranyani,  Aranyani:  throwing 
himself  to  and  fro,  and  striding  wildly  up  and 
down,  as  if  his  heart,  appalled  by  the  blank 
horror  of  its  own  loneliness,  were  struggling  to 
escape.  And  then,  after  a  while,  as  if  ex- 
hausted, and  as  it  were  overcome  by  the  sense 
of  the  futility  of  his  lamentation,  he  ceased,  as 
suddenly  as  he  began,  and  remained  for  a  long 
time  standing  absolutely  still,  looking  out 
through  the  open  door  into  the  wood,  that  lay 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  149 

silent,  as  if  on  purpose  to  sympathise  with  the 
other  dead  silence  there  within. 

And  at  last  he  turned.  And  he  looked  for 
a  moment  at  Aranyani,  and  he  stooped,  and 
took  the  knife,  which  all  the  while  remained 
buried  in  her  breast,  and  drew  it  suddenly 
away,  and  turned,  and  went  out,  and  fastened 
very  carefully  the  door. 

And  he  stood  awhile  in  the  moonlight,  look- 
ing at  his  knife.  And  then  he  put  it,  just  as  it 
was,  back  into  the  sheath,  saying  to  himself: 
Her  heart's  red  blood  shall  dry  upon  the  blade, 
till  I  mix  it  with  his  own. 


VIII 

But  in  the  mean-while  Atirupa,  away  in  his 
capital  in  the  desert,  continued  as  before, 
having  utterly  forgotten  Aranyani,  and  never 
thinking  of  her  even  in  a  dream;  busy,  like  a 
mad  bee,  only  in  making  onslaughts  on  other 
flowers,  and  leaving  behind  him  those  al- 
ready rifled  of  their  honey,  neglected  and 
buried  in  oblivion,  like  the  faded  leaves  of  a 
dead  red  lotus  lying  at  the  very  bottom  of  a 
forest  pool. 

And  then,  by  the  decree  of  destiny,  there 
came  at  last  a  day  when  he  sat  with  some  of 
his  retainers,  according  to  his  custom,  drinking 
wine  and  passing  time  easily  in  his  palace  hall. 
And  there  came  in,  all  at  once,  a  keeper  of  the 
gate.     And   she^   said:    Maharaj,    there   has 

^  They  appear  to  have  been  women,  very  often,  in  mediaeval 
or  ancient  India. 

150 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  151 

come  to  the  door  an  old  sannydsi,  demanding 
admission  to  thy  presence,  and  refusing  to  go 
away.  And  it  may  be,  he  is  mad. '  For  he 
says  he  is  a  deity,  who  wishes  to  renew  his  old 
acquaintance  with  another.  And  now,  the 
Maharaja  is  the  judge. 

And  Atirupa  laughed,  and  he  said:  If  he  is  a 
deity  indeed,  why  is  he  waiting  at  a  gate? 
And  yet,  who  knows?  For  the  deity  presents 
himself  in  many  forms,  and  who  knows  how 
or  when?  But  go  thou  and  tell  the  holy  man 
to  give  thee  some  evidence,  or  token,  of  his 
divinity,  and  then  we  shall  see. 

So,  then,  after  a  while,  that  pratihdri  came 
again.  And  she  said:  Maharaj,  thus  said  the 
sannydsi:  Go  and  tell  the  Maharaja  that  I  am 
the  God  of  Death,  yet  not  just  of  any  death, 
but  only  of  his  own.  For  long  ago,  I  burned 
his  body,  with  fire  from  my  eye;  and  now 
I  am  curious  to  see  whether  the  new  body  he  has 
got  is,  as  I  have  heard,  still  better  than  the  old.^ 

^  And  yet,  not  so  much  in  India  as  in  Europe.  Even  now,  in- 
carnations of  deity  might  be  found  all  over  India. 

'  The  point  of  the  flattery  lies,  of  course,  in  the  insinuation 
that  Atirupa  was  the  God  of  Love. 


152  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

And  hearing  this,  Atirupa  was  delighted, 
and  he  exclaimed :  The  evidence  is  good ;  and 
I  recognise  the  deity  of  this  well-mannered 
Byragi:  for,  as  it  seems,  he  is  a  connoisseur. 
So  bring  him  in  to  see  me.  And  he  said  to  him  - 
self:  It  may  be  he  is  an  emissary  from  one 
of  the  neighbouring  Kings, '  covering  his  policy 
with  folly:  or  he  may  be  the  go-between  of 
some  assignation:  or  even  if  he  be  nothing  of 
the  kind,  what  harm? 

So  then,  after  a  little  while,  that  sannydsi 
entered,  looking  like  a  very  shdla  tree  in  height « 
And  he  was  smeared  all  over  with  ashes,  from 
his  head  to  his  feet,  with  absolutely  no- 
thing on,  but  a  yellow  rag  around  his  waist, 
and  a  rosary  of  aksha  beads  around  his  neck, 
which  resembled  that  of  a  bull.  And  his  face 
was  almost  hidden  in  the  masses  of  his  grey 
and  very  dirty  hair  and  beard,  which  were  mat- 
ted, and  tied  in  large  knots,  above  and  below. 
And  his  eyes,  which  were  extraordinarily 
bright,  rested  on  Atirupa,  as  he  entered,  with 

^  All  these  sannydsis,  byrdgis,  gosdwis,  were  as  a  rule  wandering 
scoundrels  who  had,  and  have,  much  to  do  with  politics. 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  153 

an  expression  which,  Hke  that  of  a  wild  animal, 
was  half  timidity  and  half  ferocity,  mixed  with 
keen  examination:  and  he  trembled  a  very 
little,  as  he  stood,  as  if  with  fear.  And  Ati- 
rupa  gazed  at  him  with  curiosity  and  wonder, 
and  he  exclaimed,  as  if  in  jest:  O  Maheshwara, 
there  cannot  be  a  doubt  of  thy  divinity:  for 
surely,  if  thou  wert  not  Maheshwara  himself, 
he  might  be  jealous  of  thee,  for  thy  height  and 
thy  ashes  and  thy  hair,  and  that  third  eye 
painted  in  the  very  middle  of  thy  brow, 
looking  as  if  it  were  just  about  to  open  and 
consume  me  again. 

Then  that  strange  old  sannydsi  laughed  like 
a  hyaena,  and  he  said:  Maharaj,  be  not  afraid 
any  longer  of  my  eye:  for  this  time  I  shall 
consimie  thee  with  flame  of  quite  another 
kind,  in  the  form  of  a  kiss  that  I  have 
brought  thee,  from  a  beauty  almost  equal  to 
thy  own,  with  eyes  that  resemble  the  gazelle, 
and  lips  that  are  redder  than  her  own  heart's 
blood. 

Then  said  Atirupa:  Sannydsi,  I  know  that 
a  message  carried  by  thee  would  be  of  a  value 


154  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

proportioned  to  its  bearer ;  and  tell  me  quickly 
what  it  is,  for  I  am  curious  to  learn. 

And  the  sannydsi  looked  at  him  significantly, 
as  it  were  with  a  wink  of  the  eyes.  And  he 
said :  O  deity  of  Love,  who  knows  better  than 
thyself  that  a  high-caste  lady,  when  she  goes  to 
an  assignation,  wraps  herself  up,  and  fastens 
her  bangles  and  her  anklets,  to  prevent  them 
even  from  jingling?  And  there  are  words,  and 
names,  unfit  to  be  heard  by  any  other  ears 
than  thine.  Were  I  to  speak,  among  all  these 
ears,  thou  wouldst  be  the  very  first  to  punish 
me  for  my  indiscretion. 

Then  Atirupa  was  filled  with  curiosity,  and 
he  said  to  himself:  It  is  as  I  thought,  and  he  is 
an  emissary,  and  one,  moreover,  well  suited  to 
his  task.  And  he  turned,  and  exclaimed: 
Chamu,  take  everyone  away.  And  then,  the 
sannydsi  looked  attentively  at  Chamu,  as  they 
went.  And  he  said,  in  a  low  voice,  to  Atirupa : 
Maharaj,  for  I  have  heard  of  Chamu,  that 
he  is  thy  widusJiaka,"^  let  him  be  at  hand:  for 
with  thy  permission,  he  and  I  will  settle  all  the 

^  As  we  should  say:     Pere  Joseph,  or  dme-damnee. 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  155 

details  of  this  negotiation,  as  soon  as  it  has 
received  thy  own  approval. 

And  Atirupa  said :  Chamu,  be  ready  when  I 
call.  And  when  they  were  all  gone,  he  ex- 
claimed with  impatience:  Now  then,  O 
sannydsiy  to  thy  business,  without  any  more 
delay.  Who  is  thy  employer?  And  the 
sannydsi  said:  Aranyani:  and  if  thou  hast 
forgotten  her,  she  has  not  forgotten  thee.  But 
having  abandoned  her  own  body,  she  has  en- 
tered mine,  to  give  thee,  as  I  said,  the  kiss  of 
death. 

And  then,  as  Atirupa  stared  at  him  with 
amazement,  that  sannydsi  leaped  upon  him 
with  a  yell,  and  seized  him,  and  threw  him 
suddenly  on  his  back.  And  he  knelt  on  his 
throat,  like  a  very  mountain,  and  taking  from 
his  waist  a  knife,  he  plunged  it,  with  blows 
like  those  of  a  carpenter  that  hammers  in  a 
nail,  over  and  over  again  into  his  heart. 

And  then,  as  the  retainers  came  running  in, 
simmioned  as  though  on  purpose  by  his  own 
yell,  with  Chamu  at  their  head,  he  started  to 
his  feet.     And  as  they  looked  towards  him,  lo ! 


156  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

that  sannydsi  began  to  laugh.  And  he  put  up 
suddenly  his  hands,  and  seized,  with  one,  his 
hair,  and  with  the  other,  his  beard,  and  tore 
them  from  his  head. 

And  as  Chamu  stopped  short,  gazing  at  him 
with  stupor  and  recognition,  he  stood  for  a 
single  instant  absolutely  still,  as  if  to  let  him 
see.  And  then,  he  leaned  suddenly  towards 
him,  and  he  lifted  his  finger  and  he  whis- 
pered very  low :  Hark !  Dost  thou  not  hear 
Aranyani  calling,  out  of  the  other  world?  So 
now,  then,  we  will  go  together,  to  seek  her, 
along  the  great  road.  And  he  threw  himself 
suddenly  on  Chamu,  and  took  him  by  the 
throat,  with  huge  hands  whose  fingers  re- 
sembled the  roots  of  a  wata  tree. 

And  as  he  felt  the  throat  of  that  ill-doer  in 
his  hands,  there  came  over  him  like  a  flood 
madness,  that  resembled  the  intoxication  com- 
pounded of  delight,  and  fury,  and  despair,  as 
if  his  life-long  devotion  to  Aranyani,  and  his 
wrath  at  her  ruin  and  his  own,  had  waited  till 
that  very  moment  to  mingle  with  the  rapture 
of   revenge,    and    filling    his    soul    with   the 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  157 

ecstasy  of  the  strength  of  a  giant,  had  then 
become  concentrated  to  pass  into  his  hands. 
And  as  he  squeezed,  he  muttered,  not  knowing 
what  he  said:  Laugh,  weasel,  laugh  now  at 
Aranyani.  And  in  the  meantime  all  the 
others,  to  whom  he  paid  no  more  attention 
than  as  if  they  were  not  there,  seeing  abso- 
lutely nothing  before  him  but  the  eyes  of 
Chamu  that  were  starting  from  his  head,  fell 
upon  him  all  together  in  a  body,  like  a  swarm 
of  bees,  and  stung  him,  as  it  were,  to  death, 
exactly  as  they  chose,  cutting  him  to  pieces 
with  swords  and  knives.  But  for  all  that 
they  did,  they  could  not  loose  his  hands, 
which  remained  just  as  they  were,  locked  like 
an  iron  ring  around  the  throat  to  which  they 
clung,  as  if  his  will  still  animated  them,  even 
after  he  was  dead. 

'  So  it  came  about,  just  as  he  predicted;  and 
those  two  very  bitter  enemies  went  together, 
and  as  it  were,  hand-in-hand,  into  the  other 
world.  And  Chamu,  with  his  master  Atirupa, 
went  into  other  bodies.  But  the  soul  of 
Babhru  entered,  for  his  crime,  into  that  body 


158  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

of  a  camel  lying  yonder,  which  perished,  as  I 
told  thee  to  begin  with,  in  the  desert  long  ago. 


And  then,  the  Moony-crested  stopped. 
And  after  a  while,  the  Daughter  of  the  Snow 
said  softly:  Alas!  for  these  unhappy  mor- 
tal women,  who  suffer  at  the  hands  of  evil- 
minded  lovers  such  intolerable  wrong  and 
woe.  And  yet,  as  I  think,  poor  Babhru  de- 
served rather  to  be  forgiven  altogether,  or 
even  to  be  actually  rewarded,  rather  than 
punished  by  the  body  of  a  camel  for  treat- 
ing those  two  ill-doers  even  better  than  they 
merited,  for  such  outrageous  crime. 

Then  said  Maheshwara,  looking  at  her  with 
affection:  O  Daughter  of  the  Snow,  thou  re- 
semblest  every  other  woman,  judging  by  thy 
own  pity  and  compassion,  and  the  emotion 
aroused  in  thy  soiil  by  the  particular  mis- 
fortime  of  a  solitary  case,  not  taking  into  any 
consideration  the  constitution  of  the  world. 
And  this  is  a  merit  and  a  beauty  in  thee,  and 
yet  it  is  altogether  wrong.  For  Babhru  suf- 
fered as  a  consequence  of  acts  committed  in 


Bubbles  of  the  Foam  159 

a  former  birth,  the  circumstances  of  which 
thou  dost  not  know.  And  moreover,  even  so, 
he  was  culpable  and  presumptuous,  in  taking 
on  himself  a  vengeance  to  which  even  Aranyani 
did  not  urge  him,  not  knowing  that  punish- 
ment far  more  terrible  than  his  was  waiting 
for  those  criminals,  without  his  interference. 
And  he  should  have  left  Aranyani's  vindi- 
cation to  the  deity,  who  knew  what  was 
necessary  far  better  than  himself,  and  had  his 
eye  upon  it  all.  For  there  is  no  retribution  so 
just,  or  so  sure,  or  so  adequate,  or  awful,  as 
that  which  evil-doers  lay  upon  themselves, 
in  the  form  of  their  own  ill-deeds,  which 
dog  them  like  a  shadow  clinging  to  their  heels, 
from  body  to  body  through  birth,  after  birth, 
till  the  very  last  atom  of  guilt  has  passed 
through  the  furnace  of  expiation,  and  the  very 
last  item  of  their  debt  to  everlasting  Yama  has 
been  weighed  in  his  scales,  and  struck  from  the 
account,  and  utterly  redeemed. 


And  then,  that  Lord  of  the  Moony  Tire  took 
his  darling  in  his  arms,  and  set  her  on  his  lap : 


i6o  Bubbles  of  the  Foam 

and  they  rose  up  and  floated  away  together 
like  a  cloud  to  their  home  on  the  snowy  peak. 
But  the  bones  of  that  camel  remained  alone, 
lying  still  in  the  sand,  till  the  moon  got  up 
and  gazed  at  them  with  wonder,  looking 
down  from  the  sky,  as  if  mistaking  them  for  a 
reflection  of  himself,  looking  back  at  him  with 
white  and  silent  laughter  from  the  blackness  of 
the  earth,  and  saying  as  it  were:  By  the  help  of 
thy  beams,  I  am  whiter  than  thyself.  And  the 
night-wind  rushed  over  them,  scattering  over 
them  oblivion,  in  the  form  of  a  cloud  of  its  play- 
thing, the  ocean  of  the  sand,  and  danced 
round  and  fled  away  with  a  wail  into  the 
desert,  with  a  music  that  resembled  the 
moan  of  the  world  for  the  victims  of  the  waste. 


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